


Give Me Family

by lavenderlotion



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Phil Coulson is Stiles Stilinski's Uncle, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Phil Coulson, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski is a Bad Parent, Spark!Stiles, Stiles Leaves, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski Speaks Polish, Tags Contain Spoilers, mentions of explicit content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11466993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: On HiatusStiles Stilinski watched his mother die while holding her restrained hand and watched her death bring what he had always thought to be a great man to his knees.He lost his mother to dementia and his father to Jack Daniels.Stiles is intimately aware of what being alone feels life. Admittedly Stiles was actually pretty sure neglect was a form of abuse.And well, abuse became pretty typical for Stiles. Whatever. He could handle it.Until, well, until he couldn't.Next thing he knows he's living in New York in the Avengers Tower and life is certainly a lot better when you have people who care about you.or; the fic where stiles life in beacon hills SUCKS, gerard is even more of an asSHOLe than in cannon, phil coulson is his uncle-turned-dad and stiles sort-of-maybe-kind-of-a-little becomes an avenger. mostly.as the story grows there will be MAJOR spoilers in tags!





	1. When Everything Went To Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Maggie for the translations !! love ya hun!
> 
> awesome, awesome [mood board](https://merakiteriyaki.tumblr.com/post/169793981241/a-moodboard-give-me-family-by-brandileeder-read) for this fic
> 
>  
> 
> see end notes for warnings

Stiles was actually pretty sure neglect was a form of abuse.

He couldn't be _certain_ , and it damn well wasn't something he wanted to look up. Because looking it up meant finding out _for sure_ that it was, which meant admitting to himself that his father, Sheriff Stilinski of Beacon Hills was abusive, and well. He already had a dead mom whose last words were about her evil, devil son and how he was trying to kill her.

He wasn't. He read enough about frontotemporal dementia to know that the person saying those things wasn't his mother, that his mother hadn’t really been his mother for nearly a year and the person lying in the hospital bed wasn’t someone he knew. Somehow at ten he was able to realize that his mother’s death was a _good_ thing, because it meant she no longer had to suffer. Sure, he grieved his mom. Missed her every single day - cried for hours at first. But he was also happy, relieved because she was better off. He had even talked to Melissa about it, asked her in his ten year old vulnerability and she had assured him he wasn't disgusting for being happy his mom was no longer hurting, and that it was okay to miss her and be happy for her at the same time.

He didn't tell his father, though.

He never had the chance to.

His father, to put it simply, broke. When Stiles watched his mother die it made something inside of him harden, a sharpness that was brought to life. But his Dad? The Sheriff? That’s not how it happened for him. No. Instead what happened was his father fell into a bottle of Jack Daniels and forgot his son who had the same eyes and laugh and smile as his late wife. He took all the love he had once had for his family and forced it into his job, powering through cases. He locked himself up at work, spending a maximum of three nights at home per week, always drunk in the house that he had lived in with his wife who was no longer there.

His son was, but he was nothing but a painful reminder.

Stiles Stilinski watched his mother die while holding her restrained hand and watched her death bring what he had always thought to be a great man to his knees.

He was ten.

He was _eleven_ when he started paying bills. His father wasn’t home enough to even see the mail, so someone had to. In all honesty, this was probably when Stiles’ obsession with learning came to be. First he had devoured hours of text about his mother's disease and then he had to teach himself how to functionally live. So he Googled how to pay bills and that month so that unlike last, they would have hot water (which was really good because cold showers sucked).

When he was twelve, he learned how to manage a bank account, how to budget, and how to grocery shop. And well, he knew that some people knew about one. No doubt they all thought that the Sheriff was busy at work and his son was being responsible in the aftermath of his mother's death and helping out. Which, okay yeah. That’s what was happening. But it was because he had been abandoned by the only parent he had left and if he wanted to eat he had to go to the store. Because _he_ did the grocery shopping. Pulling out coupons from his batman velcro wallet and his father's debit card and he had to stand on his tiptoes to punch in the pin. Mr. Jensen who owned the local grocery store didn’t even stop Stiles when he essentially stole a grocery cart. Stiles kept the grocery cart in the garage and would walk it all the way to the grocery story empty and walk it all the back full because he was eleven and didn’t have a car.

By twelve he was running his household single handedly while maintaining near perfect grades, even jumping ahead a year. He was thirteen when he started being bullied. He had a dead mom and a Sheriff dad and he was friends with some of his peers mothers because he saw them so often shopping Sunday after church. Hell, he traded Lemon Square recipes at thirteen with Mrs. Whittemore. Mrs. Whittemore who told him in hushed tones that her husband was a very successful D.A, but was an even better lawyer, and if he needed help he had access to it. He didn’t tell Mrs. Whittemore that the black eye was from _her_ son and not his father, just said it was a school bully who made fun of him for not having a mom. She had hugged him and Stiles had realized he hadn’t been hugged in three years.

That was when he realized neglect was probably abuse.

* * *

He was fourteen when his father decided to stop drinking and stay at home a few extra nights. He still ignored his son, and Stiles figured it was from guilt. He probably realized that over the last four years his _child_ had been the one to make every meal, pay the bills, buy the groceries. He had been the one who kept them from burning out and drowning like his father had in Jack Daniels. His son, his young, young son was for all intents and purposes an adult and didn’t even try and talk to John either.

And it wasn’t like Stiles hated his dad, because he didn’t. Frankly, he had accepted that he had became an orphan the day his mother died and frankly, he was over it. Well, he _told_ himself he was over it. He was wise beyond his years, and while having his chance of childhood stolen from him sucked, he was more prepared for the ‘real world’ than anyone he knew. After all he knew how to functionally _live_ on his own, because he _had_ been. For years.

So no, he didn’t hate his dad because essentially he didn’t _have_ one.

In fact, the closest thing he had to a parent was his Uncle Phil. His Uncle had been his mother's older brother. He lived in New York and up until Stiles was nine visited about every two months and every holiday. He always wore suits and had wide shoulders that Stiles felt like he could see the world from. But then - if Stiles had remembered correctly - got a really big and important job promotion and wasn’t able to visit nearly as often. When his mother had died he had been at the funeral, had held Stiles in his arms because his dad was already pretty drunk. He had brought Stiles home, tucked the boy and kissed his head.

He also bought and then paid for Stiles to have a cell phone. Sure, maybe not every ten year old needed one, but he wanted to be able to talk to his nephew whenever. His nephew who was now the only the real family he had left. He was left with dead parents, a Brother-In-Law he never liked and Stiles. Stiles, his wonderful, bright, happy nephew who seemed to understand that his mother dieing had been a _good_ thing. He had even told him, when they had lowered her into the ground Stiles had worn a soft smile while others cried.

When he had taken his nephew by the hand up to the where the casket was lowered into the ground, a rose in hand, Stiles had looked up at his Uncle and said, “Don’t cry for Momma. She’d be sad she was making you sad. And she’s been sad for so long we shouldn’t make her sad when she can be happy again.”

Phil, well Phil didn’t how to answer other than to wipe his tears, smile wide at his nephew and wonder how such a perfect little being existed.

But then, well then he had to leave again. Because he was in charge of the Avengers Initiative and there were fucking _Aliens_ and okay, literally what the _fuck_.

So he had to leave when Stiles was ten. He left Stiles with a cell phone and trust that brother-in-law would stop drinking soon.

* * *

Stiles was fourteen and a sophomore when he best friend got bit by a werewolf.

He was fourteen when he threatened Danny Mahealani to teach him how to hack stuff. He was fourteen  when he begged Tara to teach him how to shoot without telling his dad. He was fourteen when he began running each morning because if he was going to run with wolves he was going to run _with_ them.

He was also fourteen when everything went to utter shit.

None of it was supposed to happen the way it did.

Which is why if he was being completely and soul-searingly honest with himself he wasn't surprised in the least.

It was supposed to be a Lacrosse game. It _was_ a Lacrosse game. Hell, it was a fucking _fantastic_ Lacrosse game because his dad was there which meant he was recording it which meant he could send it to his Uncle Phil who he _missed_ . So, so much. It was okay, most of the time, because he called him at least three times a week and texted pretty regularly. It sucked on nights like tonight, when he knew his Uncle would have loved being in the stands to cheer Stiles on as Stiles would be to have him there. So he was excited to do good tonight because he knew his Uncle would be proud of him. And he _did_ do good. He made the game his _bitch_ , his speed training paying off, the focus he had learned while in the shooting range helping to calm him.

And then it went to hell because it’s his life and nothing has really gone _right_ since the day his mother came home, face streaked with tears and told him that she was dying.

Again: he’s not even surprised it happened.

Stiles had been kidnapped. He had been taken by a sick old man who found pleasure in murder. But he held strong. He held strong because his best friend was a werewolf and he would come for him. He had always been there for Scott, had practically moved into their house for two months after his dad Rafael had left Scott and Melissa. He did all the cooking and house for two households and only let his grades slip a little. He was twelve, whatever. Melissa had always been nice and now she needed his help. He knew how hard it was to go from a dual-parent income to a single-parent income.

So he was confident and sarcastic and a little shit because Scott was coming. He had always had the other boys back, always been there. He was secure in the knowledge that Scott would do the same.

Scott didn’t come.

Pain did. Gerard Argent tied him up in a basement and dragged knives over his skin, littered him with bruises left by his steel toed boot and weathered fists. Stiles just took it, took it as Allison watched and Boyd and Erica laid unconscious. He didn’t scream, didn’t cry out. Well, until Allison left. Turns out creepy old men who get boners from torturing young boys _do_ something with those boners. Stiles only began screaming out for help when Gerard held him down and raped him. That night Stiles found out three things. First: heartbreak can either make you stronger - himself - or completely break you - Allison Argent. Second: having your pinky broken hurts less than your thumb. Third blood wasn’t nearly a good enough lubricant.

He was left there, sobbing and leaking and bleeding and so fucking hurt and exposed and vulnerable. He was left on a cold basement floor and for some reason, for some reason Stiles could honestly not even guess at, he was okay. Well, no. He wasn’t. But something warm and bright flared to life in his chest, a soft hum under his skin as it flared to life within him. Spark, Deaton had called it. Magic. Miracle, Stiles thought. In one of the books Stiles had read (after he stole it from Deaton) it had said that unlike a druid or a witch a Sparks magic worked from within, from his own soul and belief and will power. He thought it was a load of shit until he closed his eyes and believed with everything he fucking had.

He stopped hurting.

The bleeding cuts along his body shrank into thin, silvery scars that broke up his pale expanse of skin. A bright contrast to his moles, Stiles thought for a moment. He felt the four broken fingers and two splintered ribs and his smashed kneecap knit themselves back together. His bruises didn’t go away, Honestly, Stiles was pretty sure his magic was smart as fuck because Stiles would have also left the bruises and instead focused on the broken bones and bleeding cuts.

Then, when he was able to stand without too much discomfort he limped over to Boyd and Erica (and furiously ignored the wet spot in the back of his boxers that was most likely an equal mix of semen and blood) he focused his Spark once more. It was beautiful, really, the way he could feel it. It was warmth and safety and _protection_ , fierce, fierce protection. A little dark, too. Like a fire just waiting to leap out and _consume_ . I lightning storm within himself. He untied the two wolves and somehow, some-fucking-how (because Stiles knew for a damn fact he should not be strong enough to _teleport_ people) sent them to Derek.

After that, he left.

* * *

When Stiles walked into an empty house he wasn’t surprised, but he _was_ glad. His father was still mostly avoiding him but did the groceries now so Stiles could focus on getting further ahead in school work. He was only a Freshman and he was freshly fourteen and he was doing Junior level work because his brain never stopped and now with his Dad pretending to be a dad again he had more time than _ever_.

Besides the point.

He was freshly fourteen when he walked into a still empty house. When he turned the shower too hot and let it burn at his skin and he scrubbed himself and tried not to see weathered hands and cold eyes and not to hear skin slapping skin and fast breath and deep moans. He _forced_ himself not to think when he pushed the man's semen from his body. Alone and scared and crying. Sore and hurt and again _alone_. Because Scott didn’t come for him and his dad hadn’t been his dad in years and his Uncle Phil wasn’t there.

His Uncle Phil.

Stiles left the washroom in a haste and connected his laptop to his monitor. It wasn’t anything crazy but for his birthday and Christmas for the past four years his Uncle had sent him a ridiculous amount of money ( _‘son this job pays me more than I know what to do with, let an old man ease his guilt by spoiling you with material items’_ ). So Stiles had a decent set up. He let himself breath and called up his magic. He wasn’t actually sure why feeling it burn just under his skin felt good, but it was comforting, to feel it rage inside of him, letting him focus and not lose himself in his mind. He started typing, reading the lines of code as they went and felt his magic flare up inside him, helping him.

The fact that he hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D probably had more to do with his will and his belief and his magic than actual hacking ability, but it worked. And well, he wasn’t really surprised. He knew his Uncle worked for some sort of organization. The man's eyes were too sharp, scanning a room as he walked into it, always sitting to his back to a wall and his front to an exist. Most banking companies didn't send their employees all over the world on private flights to expensive ass hotels, either. Also, he always carried. Whether it be the small gun on his ankle or his shoulder holster, he was usually packing. Stiles just knew. He wasn't even sure why he had started with S.H.I.E.L.D (again probably magic) but it certainly worked.  

He called his Uncle.

It was three in the morning for him and he had no idea what time it was for his Uncle but the man answered.

He always answered.

 _“Mój chłopcze [my boy], is everything okay?”_ His Uncle asked, voice sleep soft and familiar and warm. He heard mumbling over the line, another male voice and smiled softly before promptly bursting into tears.

He didn’t even try to speak, instead cried while his Uncle whispered to him in polish, comforting words and endearments that he hadn’t heard since his mother passed away. Since he lost both parents. That thought made him cry harder.

Two hours later his sobbing had settled into quiet whimpers and he finally spoke, “Tomorrow I’m going to speak to my principal and then i-if it’s ok-okay, chcę mieszkać z tobą _[I want to live with you]_ ? _“Of course you can!”_ A voice, decidedly not his Uncles said, a fierce protectiveness to colored the tone and it settled something in Stiels, made him sigh in relief. But then there was some noise and his Uncle’s voice said, _“Mój chłopcze, ale co z twoim ojcem, [my boy, what about your father]?”_

“Your file didn’t mention you were seeing anyone?” Stiles all but yelled, thankful to have something to focus on.

_“What do you mean ‘my file’?”_

“Oh, uh long story?”

 _“Well you’ve already kept us up for two hours.”_ The same voice from early said, sarcasm dripping in his tone but nothing malicious, something oddly fond.

“I can explain when I move in?” Stiles said, letting his desperation bleed into his voice.

_“Alright, but your ojciec [father]?”_

“As if he’d even fucking notice.” Stiles grumbled, “Look, tomorrow I have to go to school and get my transcripts and I have to order the plane ticket and talk to my dad. I’ll be flying up the day after that okay? _Please?_ ”

 _“Tak podobny  do swojej matki [so similar to your mother].”_ Phil muttered before sighing, _“You not taking no for an answer, to mój chłopak [that’s my boy].”_

“Uh, once I tell you the story, you’ll understand.”

_“Yeah, and that’s what I’m worried about. Prześpij się, mój chłopcze [Have a little sleep, my boy].”_

With that, he said goodnight to his Uncle (and maybe future other uncle) with the desperate want to call this man Tata, because he had been more of a father than his own in years. So with crying eyes, he laid back and waited in the dark for morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of rape.
> 
> alright! unlike the SHIT update i just posted for my other story, With You, I Belong (*cough* go read it ily *cough*) this one i'm proud of! I am currently writing chapter five and i am very excited.  
> also fun fact: i was writing a scene for this story in and the shower and, well, i accidentally wrote smut.. SO. now it may never be used in the actual story, but we'll see :))
> 
> I am loving this story! if you like, I am posting a new fic soon! it's going to be a Human, High School AU with the main pairing as Thorki :)  
> I have NO idea when it'll be posted, but I'm enjoying myself so far when it comes to writing it!  
> and actually, it has like NOTHING in common with this fic, so if you like this fic you may not like it, but if you like mostly fluffy goo then, well, you probably will LOL. also if you have a thing for size differences.. WELL.  
> I do wanna get like, minimum three chapters in before posting though, so we'll see what happens!!!
> 
> anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this story! Please, Please leave comments! they honestly make my day and truth be told, i anxiously sit around all day long waiting for comments to come in. let me know what you think, what you want to see!  
> also, which Avengers do you think Stiles will meet first?? Which other Avenger pairings will be in this fic!! I'm not going to say anything, nor add it to the tags until the chapters are posted, but I (hope!?) you'll like it! I DO! Where I am now Stiles has only met two Avengers, but he's meeting a third (okay not really an Avenger at all bbut shhh) person!
> 
> ALSO i'm trying to make my notes, like less horrible?? basically it's a place for me to have a very one sided conversation with you all, and i know some of you read it (shout out - if you're reading to this - to the mom of four kids I talked to in the comments. how ya doing babe??) and I'm trying to make them less me randomly rambling. half the time i feel like i sound drunk ya know. annyywayyy again!  
> that's all for tonight's notes! if you read them all (kinda sorry you had to that) let me know if you'd be interested in a fluffy, gooey Thorki fic! oooh also opinions on the chapter too, LOL!
> 
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	2. Never, By Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does 12:13 a.m really count as Monday? Eh, who cares!  
> Special thanks to Emily for being my Beta and Maggie for the translations!! Woo!! Proper polish from now on! AND on the first go :)

His Vice Principle (because no one knew where Mr. Argent was - Stiles was guessing he was still alive) was quite honestly, not surprised. He showed up to school still bruised, still sporting a slight limp. He hadn’t tried to heal himself anymore after last night, instead just let his spark remain under his skin, a constant reminder that he was safe. He could feel that it was weak, a little pitiful burn, no longer that of a forest fire - now barely a tealight candle. He liked Mrs. Ashley. She was a short woman with a kind smile and had been the one who allowed Stiles to skip the eighth grade and go straight to ninth. Sitting in her office had never made him nervous. Even when he had been sent there for talking back (usually just correcting the teacher), he had never been scared of her, and he hardly got in trouble. Instead, she would offer him candy and laugh with him, asking him about his studies. Today he explained how he was moving to New York to live with his Uncle and would be attending school there. He mentioned that he had finished all the coursework that was required of Freshmen, then went through the Sophomore work and had  _ then  _ moved on to Junior work and wanted to know if he could finish now so that he could move as soon as possible. An hour later she walked back into the room with a recommendation letter to help whatever school he decided to go to let him into senior level classes though he should only be entering his second year. He would be fourteen and a senior. Wow. 

This also meant that he had three whole months of Holidays! 

Sue him, he was still a child sometimes and knowing that he would have extra month of summer (and then be able to start two whole grade levels higher than he should be) was awesome! He would have even more down time to hang with his Uncle and his … boyfriend? His file didn’t say anything about a significant other. Knowing that he would be so far advanced in school gave him the little extra bit of confidence he needed to make it significantly easier to talk to his dad. 

He walked into the Sheriff’s station with his head held high. He knew his father would likely try and say no, would try and tell him he wasn’t allowed to go or tell him it wasn’t his place. Would say he couldn’t just leave, but Stiles was determined. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He was an adult in his own right and no way was he going to let his father think that parenting is something you can stop doing for years and then pick back up like an old hobby. He spent years taking care of the other man and not once had a moment to be a kid. Hell, he was two years ahead in his school work and that was when single handedly running a home and taking care of a grown man who otherwise would have fallen into so much debt he’d never get out of. He would have had his house taken away from him, lost his job and his son, if Stiles hadn’t stepped up four years ago his father would be  _ nothing _ . The sheriff didn’t even  _ know _ .

So when, predictably, his father said no, Stiles decided the best course of action was to scream all that at him. He cried through the whole thing. Cried as he told his dad that he wasn’t his dad. Cried while he explained to this man that he would have nothing left if it wasn’t for him. Asked him who bought groceries for all those years? Who paid bills? Who made his lunch, dinner? Who did the laundry? Who did the housework?

At the end, Stiles said, “You can’t decide to be a dad when it’s convenient. I’m flying to New York tomorrow morning and you can either let me, or I will get emancipated and probably get you fired.”

Then he left. He marched himself home and bought the most convenient plane ticket and packed.

He didn’t really think much for the rest of the afternoon. He detached himself from what he was doing, packed bags with a blank mind. It was easier that way, easier to just not let anything bother him. Every time he closed his eyes he still saw aged-hands and felt the phantom pain of penetration. During those moments his spark would act up. Hell, he wasn’t even really sure what the hell his spark  _ did _ , or well, could do. He knew that Deaton had told him that it operated out of belief, but frankly Stiles had no idea what that actually  _ meant _ . 

So that was how he found himself outside the vet clinic. It was eleven in the evening and the majority of his bedroom had been packed up. He had already called his Uncle and told him when he would be arriving and his Uncle had promised him he’d be there. When the hung up he had been so tempted to call the man  _ Tata _ and he almost did. It was sort of a bitter sweet shock, realizing it wasn’t a word that he had said since his mother died.

Stiles entered the clinic, smiling a little as Deaton’s eyes looked him over. He didn’t really trust the man, not completely. He was a little too vague and cryptic for Stiles’ personal tastes. However, when he got close he felt his magic flare up, felt it vibrate under his skin and reach with glee for the Druid. He could  _ feel _ how his Spark spun around the man's magic, could almost watch as the two forces twisted around one another, so inherently different. 

“I see you’ve unlocked your Spark. How did that happen?” Deaton asked as he led Stiles into the back.

The boy laughed bitterly, feeling rage and  _ disgust _ swirl in him “Oh you know, was tortured and ra-rap-” He chokes on the word, voice dropping into a frustrated growl as he fists his hands at his sides, fingernails digging into palms - his own desperate attempt to anchor himself from the onslaught of memories he can feel at the back of his mind. His throat fills with bile and he has to swallow it back down, eyes burning with the effort it takes to force himself back to the present. He squares his shoulders anyway, a last ditch attempt to appear  _ anything _ but weak.

His words had the man pause. He turned slowly, eyes sharp as he tilted his head in question, but Stiles didn’t back down. He stood tall almost daring Deaton to say something. Instead, the man just stepped closer and grabbed Stiles hand in both of his, holding him gently. He whispered a few words with closed eyes as he breathed out. Stiles felt his magic respond, felt as it fluttered within him. He could see it when his Spark glew bright and strong. He felt it … well cleanse? It felt as though Deaton was washing it, was  _ cleaning _ it with his own earthy magic, getting rid of the dirt that Stiles hadn’t know was there until now.  

“That should help.” Deaton said stepping back, moving to his office, “When Sparks are unleashed during … trauma, they can become tainted. Mr. Stilinski, I am incredibly impressed.”

“With what?” 

“Your Spark was fairly dark, but you had it under control. You kept a strong hold on your magic and didn’t let it consume you.” Deaton explained, pulling out a few big books and placing them on his desk, “How are you feeling now?”

And well, Stiles wasn’t sure. He felt cleaner, in a sense. Less burdened almost. He could breathe a little easier and his magic was no longer rushing under his skin, but now a subtle hum that felt so incredibly different, “Lighter.” Stiles settled on, smiling at the man in thanks. 

“These are all the books I have on Sparks. Read this one first, it’s mostly an introduction. These two are journals of long dead Sparks, but they should be helpful.”

“Can I have some Mountain Ash? Maybe Wolfsbane and Mistletoe Toe?” Stiles asked, scruffing his toes against the floor, “And like, a lot?”

“And why is that, Mr. Stilinski?”

“Oh, well I’m going to New York. For, well, forever probably.” Stiles said, nodding to himself a little.

“Ah, I see.” Deaton said with a kind smile, squeezing Stiles shoulder as the man passed. Stiles was pretty sure he put more magic into him because he felt calmer as well.

“Could, uh. Like  _ maybe _ if you have t-time may-”

“Spit it out, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Couldyoudrivemetotheairport?” Stiles said in a breath, all but sagging in relief.

“When is your flight?” Deaton questioned, pulling out full mason jars of the herbs he had asked for.

“Uh, six tomorrow morning.”

“I’d be happy to. I’ll shall also give you the contact information of a few friends in New York. They can help supply with you, well  _ supplies _ , shall you ever be in need. It is a pleasure helping you, young Spark Stilinski.”

Stiles beamed at the man.

* * *

The flight had, in all honesty, been boring as hell. He didn't have any school work to do, he didn’t bring his laptop (he had destroyed it, dropped it in the sink then smashed it to pieces - hell he had hacked  _ S.H.I.E.L.D _ ) so he couldn’t play on that or watch a movie. The games on his phone were just not doing it for him either, so. However, the lady he sat beside was nice. She had been quiet for the first half hour, but quickly she and Stiles had hit it off and they talked a  _ lot _ . He spent the rest of his flight talking and trading stories with the lady who all soft smiles and gentle words, something Stiles needed right now. She had four kids and Stiles respected the fuck out of that. He told her a little about his own life, they shared tips on budgeting and why coupons really are a godsend and yeah no, that detergent gave me a rash don’t use it. Conditioner is good for your hair and he should use a SPF moisturizer in the mornings and a regular one at night. 

By the time Stiles got off the plane, he knew more about skin care than he ever had before and was determined to hit up the nearest LUSH for some supplies. Bath bombs sounded  _ awesome _ .

During baggage claim he was near giddy. He hadn't been this excited about something in  _ years _ and it felt good. The smile he was wearing felt good. It was big and made his cheeks hurt and he was  _ happy _ . He rushed to the clamming area letting his magic rush his own bags along (this Spark thing was turning out to be pretty cool after all - Stiles had almost finished the introductory book and it really was all about belief). He felt a little woozy after, but he knew it was because of the transference of energy while using magic. Magic always took something and in Stiles’ case would normally mean energy or blood. Certain things would be easier to do with a third party - Deaton had said Stiles could make a containment barrier without wolfsbane and it would still hold a werewolf, but using the wolfsbane would mean the amount of his own personal magic used would be very little and would still be as strong.

Stiles just smiled harder and pulled a protein bar out of his backpack/carry on and all but inhaled it. He could get his energy back with sleep or eating. In fact, as long as he ate a lot, consumed a fair bit of calories in a day he wouldn't need nearly as much sleep - which was pretty awesome since Stiles was pretty sure nightmares would become a recurring theme. Hell, since Scott was bitten he’d hardly slept more than five hours (on average getting three) a night and would crash once or twice a week and just be unable to leave his bed. Now though? Being  _ able _ to get less sleep while eating more would be pretty cool. It just meant he had a  _ reason _ to eat more curly fries. 

Still smiling, Stiles made his way through the airport. His Uncle had texted him where he was waiting for him and Stiles was ridiculously happy. This was going to be good. It was going to be  _ great _ . Hell, his Uncle was not only one of his favorite people but also a member of S.H.I.E.L.D.  _ Fucking _ S.H.I.E.L.D and  _ not only that _ but he was in charge of the Avengers Initiative! Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn’t a  _ huge _ Tony Stark fan. The changes he made to his company were awe-inspiring, the way he went from being a company that supplied top-of-the-line weaponry to a company whose sole purpose was to further the  _ world _ in general. They were making huge leaps in the fields of renewable energy, and the company donated  _ huge _ amounts of money to different charities, not to mention the September Foundation! It was something to be marveled over, and Stiles marveled over it. One of his dreams was working for the man and maybe now he’d be able to, since it seemed his Uncle knew the man.

He also had a huge crush on Captain America. But well. That was a  _ whole _ other story.

When Stiles finally saw his Uncle Phil for the first time in nearly four years, he had to fight back the urge to run to the man and jump into his arms. He didn’t fight to urge to cry though, tears streaming down his face silently as he walked towards the man who stood there, seemingly frozen in place as he took in Stiles’ appearance. He was still a little bruised, letting most of his magic work on still healing his insides (because apparently he hadn’t done quite as good a job that night as he thought he did). So yeah, Stiles kind of looked like shit right now. Which to be completely fair he also  _ felt _ like shit, so. 

But then he was in front of his Uncle was wrapping him up in his arms, cradling his head against his chest and Stiles started to actually cry, shaking in the man's arms. He let it go, let everything go and cried. Cried for his mom, and his father and his childhood. For his best friend and himself, for his innocence. He cried because he hadn’t been hugged in  _ years _ . Fucking years and he felt safe. He felt so completely safe here in his Uncle’s arms, and then there was heat at his back, another man joining into their hug. He didn’t feel threatened even though the last man who pressed against his back took something that didn’t belong to him and it only made him cry harder, one hand tangling in his Uncle's suit jacket and the other gripping the man's - Clint, Clint Barton,  _ fucking _ Hawkeye - and just relaxed into it. Relaxed into the comfort.

“Nie zostawiajcie mnie, [Do not leave me].” And this time he let the word slip out. What he needed. He loved his Uncle and loved Phil being his Uncle but for all intents and purposes he’s seen the man as his Tata for  _ years _ now and since Clint is also apart of this hug Stiles is pretty secure in assuming their relationship is incredibly series.

“Mój chłopcze, nigdy [My boy, never].” His Tata assured, one arm still wrapped around Stiles but moving the other to hold Clint - his Papa - closer.

“You’re ours now. I don’t care about what anyone else says. You’re ours.” Clint said, his voice firm and deep against his neck.

“Dziękuję, Papo [Thank you, Father].” Stiles said on a sigh, he rubbed his forehead into Phils chest and mumbled, “Tata. Tata and Papo [Dad. Dad and Father].”

“Mój Jastrząbku [My little hawk].” His Papo agreed.

The endearment startled a laugh out of Stiles, fully aware of the reasoning behind his Papo calling him a hawk, and also happy he understood polish too. Stiles always found speaking endearments and of rather emotional things easier to do in his first language. There was also the fact that due to his ADHD he would sometimes just switch mid sentence without meaning too. But the thought of being called little hawk brought up the whole  _ ‘I hacked into a secret organization and know who you both are and what you do’ _ conversation that he didn’t really  _ want _ to have and would most likely be followed by the  _ ‘i have magical powers and everyone i know is a werewolf’ _ conversation that he also  _ really _ did not want to have. 

Stiles just sighed, smiling up and the two men who seemed completely at ease with taking on their roles of, well, parents in Stiles’ life, something he hasn’t had in so very long that he almost started to cry  _ again _ . 

“Tata you didn't tell me you were dating an Avenger!” Stiles whisper-yelled, gesturing excitedly between the two, another huge grin over taking his face. 

“Oh yes, how exactly is it you know who I am, jastrząbku?” Clint asked, a smirk pulling at his lips though Stiles could tell he was trying to frown. 

“Uh…” Stiles trailed off, taking a deep breath. He was safe, right now in this moment. He didn't think either of the men in front of him would turn their back on him or abandon him - but well, “Alright I have some deep rooted abandonment issues that I will tell you  _ all _ about, but like-”

“Like Clint said, mój chłopcze, we aren't giving you back.” Phil said, gripping Stiles’ shoulder. 

Stiles just sighed, breathing for a few moments to calm his heart and try and get a handle on his insecurities, “Okay how about we go for pizza, we leave the phones  _ in the car _ , and I’ll tell you guys about my crazy as fuck life?” Stiles requested, emphasizing the phone part. Luckily his Tata and Papo  seemed to get it, because they just nodded, stepping together. Clint grabbed both of his bags while Phil draped an arm over Stiles’ shoulder leading him to the car. 

With one last breath, Stiles let himself be swept up in another wave of  _ safety _ and love, and nodded. 

He'd be fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright! unlike the SHIT update i just posted for my other story, With You, I Belong (*cough* go read it ily *cough*) this one i'm proud of! I am currently writing chapter five and i am very excited.  
> also fun fact: i was writing a scene for this story in and the shower and, well, i accidentally wrote smut.. SO. now it may never be used in the actual story, but we'll see :))
> 
> I am loving this story! if you like, I am posting a new fic soon! it's going to be a Human, High School AU with the main pairing as Thorki :)  
> I have NO idea when it'll be posted, but I'm enjoying myself so far when it comes to writing it!  
> and actually, it has like NOTHING in common with this fic, so if you like this fic you may not like it, but if you like mostly fluffy goo then, well, you probably will LOL. also if you have a thing for size differences.. WELL.  
> I do wanna get like, minimum three chapters in before posting though, so we'll see what happens!!!
> 
> anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this story! Please, Please leave comments! they honestly make my day and truth be told, i anxiously sit around all day long waiting for comments to come in. let me know what you think, what you want to see!  
> also, which Avengers do you think Stiles will meet first?? Which other Avenger pairings will be in this fic!! I'm not going to say anything, nor add it to the tags until the chapters are posted, but I (hope!?) you'll like it! I DO! Where I am now Stiles has only met two Avengers, but he's meeting a third (okay not really an Avenger at all bbut shhh) person!
> 
> ALSO i'm trying to make my notes, like less horrible?? basically it's a place for me to have a very one sided conversation with you all, and i know some of you read it (shout out - if you're reading to this - to the mom of four kids I talked to in the comments. how ya doing babe??) and I'm trying to make them less me randomly rambling. half the time i feel like i sound drunk ya know. annyywayyy again!  
> that's all for tonight's notes! if you read them all (kinda sorry you had to that) let me know if you'd be interested in a fluffy, gooey Thorki fic! oooh also opinions on the chapter too, LOL!
> 
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	3. Bare My Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks juliet, ur my queen b;) (get it 'b' for beta)
> 
> see end notes for warning

Driving through New York was an absolutely surreal experience for Stiles. Beacon Hills wasn't a _small_ town by any means, but it definitely had that  small town feel to it. It compacted close together  and sure there was a rush hour, but it was literally only an hour around eight in the morning and again around around four in the afternoon. It wasn’t even _that bad_ either, since everyone was polite enough to each let one person go, so there were hardly any backups. People obeyed traffic laws and teenagers only ever dared to speed along Route 9 because they knew no one actually cared. Driving around New York, settled into the back seat of a his Tatusiowie car, Stiles felt small and insignificant and unknown. He _loved_ it. He loved the fact that he didn't know the names of the people who were walking by, that he didn't know who owned the cars around him. Stiles relished that fact that he didn't know _anyone,_ and reveled with the knowledge that no one knew him. It was a feeling he'd never experienced before, something he'd never had the pleasure of knowing.

Everyone in Beacon Hills knew that Stiles Stilinski was the loud and sarcastic son of Sheriff with the dead Mom who had ADHD that talked too much. But here? Here he was _no one._ More importantly, here he could _be_ anyone.

When they pulled up infront of a rather ran down looking Pizza Place Stiles felt fear settle in his gut. He was incredibly nervous about this part, about what all this could mean. From the very brief exploring he did while inside S.H.I.E.L.D, he knew that they really didn’t know anything about the Supernatural world. Which was - yeah that was probably good. Stiles could only begin to think about what they would want to do if it was found out that werewolves existed. He couldn’t even imagine what the government might do - experimentations, arrests, taking the lives of so, so many innocent supernatural beings just because they weren’t human.

After his Tata had parked the man turned around, looking intently at Stiles as he took his phone out of his pocket and placed it into one of the cupholders, Phil doing the same thing. Stiles sighed in relief, flashing both men a genuine smile before undoing his seatbelt and following them out.

The inside was clean, if a bit outdated, but was very ‘retro’ which, Stiles thought, just added to the place’s appeal. They were led to a soft, red leather booth littered cracks that spoke of its  its age. His Ojcowie _[dads]_ were sitting across from him, pressed close together in a familiarity that made Stiles smile at them as he looked over the menu. The toppings list was _insane_ and Stiles had been given free range.There was just too much to choose from. How could he be expected to only pick only a few items?! There were countless meats, cheeses and various other vegetables! When the waiter finally came Stiles stumbled through his order, getting three different cheeses and nearly every vegetable they had. The waiter smiled at him as he bounced in excitement, this was awesome!

Stiles looked up, noticing that both men were watching Stiles, a fond smile on his Papa face whereas his Tata was staring kind of expectantly. Stiles just sighed, looking around the shop. It was probably safe to talk here, most surely if they had brought him here to do so. Still, Stiles was uneasy. So he brought up his Spark, letting the magic flair under his skin, warmth spreading through his body. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting his intent wash over him and bleed through his magic. He wanted them to be able to talk without anyone overhearing them, whether it be other patrons or S.H.I.E.L.D, he needed to be able to do this in private. So he held his breath and let his magic move around him - out of him and he felt it as it settled in a circle around their booth, a strong barrier to block any sound from getting out. He smiled to himself, opening his eyes.

“How long have you two been together?” Stiles asked, sipping at his Iced Tea.

His ojcowie looked back at each other, a soft smile slipping over Clint’s face, “About seven years.”

Stiles eyes widened, a little flare of betrayal shooting through him, as he turned to older of the two shooting his uncle an accusing glare, “Tato! You never told me!” he said disapprovingly while waving his finger.

“I couldn't, mój chłopcze,” the man said softly, looking back to his boyfriend.

“Jastrząbku, nobody knew.”

Stiles just crossed his arms glaring at the two before sighing, “Fine. Mom would be happy, you know”  he told them, matching their smile now. “Is this like a, ‘I couldn’t tell you because we’re both super-secret-spies’ type thing?”

“Pretty much.” Clint agreed with a shrug, eyes narrowing before he whispered “Now about the spy part?”

“Oh you don’t have to whisper, no one can hear us.” Stiles said without really thinking, then cringing when two sets of too curious eyes settled on him. Stiles sighed before staring back, calling up his Spark and letting his eyes flash bright, glowing the color of molten gold before settling. Seeing the looks of shock on the two men’s faces Stiles rubbed his head as he lamely said  “magic.”

“Explain,” his Tata ordered in a voice that brokered no room for questioning.

Stiles sighed once more, focusing on the feel of magic under his skin and the safety his ojcowie made him feel. It was okay, he was going to be okay. With another deep breath he placed his feet atop the two men across from him, a foot of his over a foot of each man - a solid, real reminder that they were there.

“It's a long story that starts about six years ago There was a teenage boy who fell in love with an older woman. The boy was a werewolf while, unknown to him at the time, the woman was a hunter. All hunters must  follow a code: they are only supposed to kill supernatural beings who endanger innocents. Now some hunters follow this code perfectly and then others are crazy fucks. Kate Argent was a crazy fuck who seduced Derek Hale then burned down his house, leaving only three survivors: Derek, his older sister Laura, and their Uncle Peter. Derek and Laura moved to New York - actually - while their Uncle laid in a coma  while silently suffering from burns covering his entire body. Fast forward to the beginning of this school year, six years later and crazy Uncle Peter wakes up, lures Laura back to Beacon Hills and kills her, bites Scott McCall resulting in him becoming a werewolf.” Stiles paused to let everything sink in. At his Uncle’s nod he continued.  “Me being the amazing and loyal best friend I am, figured out Scott was a werewolf and helped him control it. But then Derek found out and Scott started dating Allison Argent and Peter was killing a bunch of people related to the fire. Anyway, Peter is crazy, Kate is back and everything goes to hell. Peter kidnaps me, Kate kidnaps Derek. Somehow - and frankly I'm still sort of confused - Peter kills Kate, I set Peter on fire and then Derek slashes Peter’s throat.”

“Well fuck jastrząbku,” the younger of the two men breathed out, entwining his and Phil’s fingers, squeezing back just as tight as the man is holding him.

“Oh there's more and it gets a lot worse and _way_ more traumatizing!” Stiles exclaimed, trying to make his voice sound more cheerful, cringing instead when it came out bitter and sad. It’s not like he _wanted_ to tell them this part, but Stiles figured they deserved to know. It’s not like he had anyone else to talk to, anyway. His Tata just sighs, but nods in a _‘go ahead’_ gesture. So Stiles steeled himself and began to talk, “So Derek needed a pack, because werewolves are stronger together and pack means family and Ohana and shit. So Derek bit four teenagers with _serious_ issues - not the point. People started dying again and no one knew why. Turns out this kid Matt had been nearly killed at a party as a kid, and decided to get revenge. Well one of the teens Derek bit was Jackson Whittemore, and the bite takes on a form to reflect the person,” He heard his Tata mutter an _‘oh jesus’_ under his breath while Papa just sighed and muttered _‘this is going to end fucking badly’_ to himself but Stiles continued. “And he turned into a giant lizard creature who was controlled by a master and it was, you guessed it! Matt. He used Jackson to kill a _shit_ ton of people. Then Matt died and Gerard Argent - crazy Kate's even more crazy and horrible father - came back to town, took control of the Kanima and killed even more people. Fun times.”

“Is that all, synu _[son]_?”

“No.” Stiles murmured, closing his eyes, blindly reaching out with a hand, sighing a little as his ojcowie each take hold of his hand, “After a Lacrosse game, I was kidnapped.” Stiles spoke softly, whispering the words, “Gerard took me, tied me up in his basement. He - he uh hit me, and cut me, a lot. I have scars now. Uh, he beat me, yeah. And Al-Allison was there, and watched. B-but she left. Uh and, and _after_ she left, he- uh … he. _Kurwa mać [translates loosely to fuck. common polish cuss word]_. Uh assaulted me. Sexually.”

Stiles couldn't look up, he was desperately trying to keep back the tears that threatened to fall, holding himself together _only_ by the increasingly tight hold around his hand. He let out a shaky breath before looking up. Phil’s face was blank, emotionless but Clint was openly crying, his other hand gripping Phils under the table still. Stiles just smiled, a small sad thing.

“If it didn't happen, I wouldn't have discovered my magic.” Stiles explained, letting some of the warmth inside him bleed into his ojcowie, smiling at the soft sighs he received, “Isn't it great? I always feel it, just under my skin, in my gut. It reminds me I'm not weak, not anymore.”

“Where the hell was your dad?” Phil asked, voice laced with a hatred that made Stiles lean back slightly, only stopping when the man's eyes softened in apology.

“That's another whole entire bag of trauma,” laughed Stiles bitterly. “After mom died, well I lost dad too. He began drinking and working more and more. The first year he’d maybe spend three nights a week at home. To be honest I think he forgot  that I was still even there. Uh, I started doing the groceries, because if I didn’t well we wouldn’t have had any food. I ran through everything in a month and a half so I just took dad's debit card from his wallet and went to the store on myself. Food was expensive, and it took me about six months to actually get good at shopping. I used a lot of coupons too, because dad bought a _lot_ of alcohol,  I knew that because I started handling the bills. Uh, there was one month, maybe almost a year after mom where the hot water was shut off, so after that I learned how to do the bills. I also did all the housework.” Stiles laughed softly at that, a more genuine noise, “The first time I did the laundry I used _way_ too much soap and had to mop it all up.”

The quiet chuckling he had been doing died out when he looked up. Both men had looks of horror on their faces, his Tata not even hiding his disgust anymore. Stiles just shrugged lowly, not really sure what to say. “Uh, yeah I basically kept us both alive, really. Which was why he let me come, because I threatened to file for emancipation and I knew that with all that had happened he’d also probably lose his job. And he’s a bit better now. Still isn’t home a lot, but doesn’t drink and does more of the house work.”

“That’s, wow.” Phil said, taking his hand in both of his, “I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“Don’t be Tata,” Stiles smiled, “There was a reason I never told you. I was okay, really. The grocery moms made me a lot of baked goods over the years, I’m honestly surprised I’m not fat.”

“Who the hell are the grocery moms?” Papa questioned, eyes narrow.

“Oh! There’s a group of Moms that all go shopping at Ale’s after church Sunday, and I always went then too. After like a year, they started bringing me baked good. Mrs. Whitmore's Lemon Squares are _amazing_ but that wiedźma _[witch]_ won’t give me her damn recipe!” Stiles swore, a little _too_ angrily, “Oh _god_. I’m basically a middle aged woman.”

Stiles wide, horrified eyes were enough to get the two men to laugh, as hollow as it may be. Frankly both men were horrified. After everything this boy, no, _their_ boy had been through that fact he was still able to joke? To smile and laugh the way he was? Hell, he just laid out the horror story of a life and was currently stuffing his face with pizza like it was the most important thing he had to do in his life. Phil was especially revolted at the behavior of his brother-in-law. How anyone could mistreat their child like that was beyond him. The very fact that  John had just cast the boy aside, forced him to become an adult way before his time was criminal.

Phil and Clint shared a knowing look, both coming to a silent agreement. They would file for parental rights and make this boy their son officially. This boy, who still had so much _good_ in him, who went from serious and strong to young and carefree. They would give him anything, hell, they’d give him _everything_ that they could. Stiles would be given the family and childhood that life had so cruelly denied him for years. He would be loved more than he could have ever imagined. They _already_ loved him as if he were their own and they would make sure he knew that, make sure this bright, wonderful boy in front of them knew just how much he was appreciated.

Leaving the pizza place all three were surprised to see that nearly two whole hours had passed since they’d arrived. Between the food and everything Stiles had said, more time had passed than they had realized. Heading to the car and straight on to home seemed to be the simplest of game plans. Tomorrow they could work everything out.

“Where are we going?” Stiles questioned from the back seat. He didn’t really know New York, but he knew enough to know that this wasn’t the way to the Avengers Tower.

“Home,” Phil said, looking back with a raised brow.

“Nice try. I know you both live at the,” Stiles raised his hand up and down, trying to charade Tower before making an ‘A’ with his hands, two fingers in a ‘v’ pointing downwards, one other crossing it.

“Oh right,” the man muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. How he somehow forgot his boy had hacked S.H.I.E.L.D was beyond him. “Alrighty Phil, to the tower.”

“Clint, I’m not sure,” Phil answered, looking over at his boyfriend before back at the road.

Clint just placed a hand on the other man's bicep, “After what he’s been through? I think he’ll be more than okay.”

Phil glared at his boyfriend for a moment before nodding. He was never good at saying no the man, and when he glanced back at Stiles’ wide, hopeful eyes he remembered he’d never been good at saying no to _him_ either. He wanted to protect the boy, to wrap him and up and keep him safe but he _knew_ Stiles wouldn’t like that. Instead he just nodded and turned.

Stiles whooped from the back seat, pumping his arm into the air before stilling. He was going to meet the Avengers. The _Avengers_ . And holy _fuck_ . O kurwa _[Fuck]_ . This was _not_ a good plan. No way was this a good idea. He was going to be living with Tony Stark, the man he’d idolised for years! How was he supposed to have an intelligent conversation with him? Hell, he’d probably make a huge fool of himself! But then again, he did have magical powers - which was pretty cool.

Another thought struck Stiles that made him go pale. “I’m wearing Captain America briefs,” he muttered, horrified and realizing how big a mistake this could become. “And jasnej cholery _[holy fuck]_ I have a Hawkeye hoodie in my suitcase!”

Clint puffed out his chest which caused another laugh to bubble out of Stiles. Stiles realized with a start that he was happy, genuinely happy here with these men and damn all hell if Stiles was ever letting anyone take this from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Description of child neglect/abuse. Mention of torture. Mention of rape.
> 
> hey what's that? i'm posting this a day early? yes, i am. I moved my entire posting schedule back a day, so now Give Me Family will be updated Sundays!  
> here is my new update schedule:  
> Friday: With You, I Belong - also wanted to let you guys know i am rewriting all of the chapters already posted and will be posting them along with my weekly updates  
> Saturday: Gone and Past - a story i just posted the first chapter of! its a rewrite of an older fic I have and you just all go read it!!!  
> Sunday: Give Me Family - i love this fic ughh  
> Monday: I Built My Home, Inside Of You - my human au thorki fic that i'm very very excited about!!!
> 
> alrighty now a lil about this chapter! I enjoyed this one!! im loving the bonding that's going on between Stiles and Phil and Clint! They two men so easily accept Stiles into their family and it honestly warms my heart! the next chapter is awesome, because stiles will be meeting MORE of his new family! can we guess who he's meeting??? welllll?? guess!  
> i am so so excited to post next week, mostly because the story stops being so sad and takes a pretty happy turn (well at least for two chapters lol)  
> I do hope that you guys enjoyed this update! i am seriously writing so much these days, it's insane! I am also not sleeping, which is beginning to really suck since my body is like, rebelling against me LOL! my brain like always hurts and im beginning to get sick and ugHHH it's just so incredibly annoying! if anyone has any tips to get more sleep please let me know because I physically can not keep going to bed at 3 am. its not healthy at all!!!  
> anyway, comment about this chapter?? just want to say hi?? leave it below in the comments!
> 
> ALSO I LOVE WHEN PEOPLE LEAVE SUGGESTIONS SO PLEASE DO THAT!  
> alsoooo check out my new fic Gone and Past and I Built My Home, Inside Of You (after i post it tomorrow)  
> leave a comment on those stories if you're coming from this one:))))
> 
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	4. Your Face Is On My Ass!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, a huge thanks to juliet! you are an amazing beta and having you on this story is awesome:)

As it turns out, the Avengers Tower is much more than Stiles had been expecting. He’s seen the Stark Tower on TV and in photos before, had even seen a few magazine spreads of the Tower. Absolutely nothing he had seen would have prepared him for the actuality.

The building itself was ridiculous. It's huge - absolutely ridiculously tall. The design itself is fascinating. New York - from what Stiles has seen - is a gorgeous mixture of old and new architecture, but nothing screams new like the tower. Stiles _loves it_.

Apparently, it’s even fucking cooler than he could have ever imagined.

Instead of pulling off into a parking garage his Tata drives straight up to the front door and parks. Stiles was confused for all five seconds before they started _descending into the concrete_ . Turning to his window, he stared out with wide eyes as he watched the front door and city disappear around him as he’s lowered into what should have been earth, but turns out to be a parking garage. As if being _lowered into the earth_ is not enough, the parking garage is _filled_ with expensive cars. It’s a beautiful, tear inducing sight and Stiles, who isn’t even _into_ cars, knows that they are all very, very nice and even more expensive.

Stiles felt overwhelmed as he stared out at the cars passing by them, apparently going to a designated parking spot since it seems like the car port is full. There’s two motorcycles, a muscle car and a few others that are obviously not millions of dollars but are all relatively nice anyway.

Stiles is a little breathless so when his Ojcowie gets out of the car he just follows them, dazed as his brain desperately tried to catch up and properly process what he’s seeing but he can’t get over how _much this parking lot must have cost._ Jesus.

“It’s okay jastrząbku. We’re home,” the man sounds calm, patient as he lets Stiles silently freak out and cling to him like a damn life line. Clint truly doesn’t mind. The jacket his son - and Clint is still a little surprised to think of the boy so easily as his own - is desperately holding onto is old and worn, and it isn’t like Clint is going to be bothered by wrinkles when most of his clothes generally end up with bullet holes.

“Yeah, yeah I know. It’s just… overwhelming,” Stiles sighs, looking around as the two men lead him into an elevator. Both men smile gently in response, Phil carrying both bags and Clint throwing an arm over his shoulder. Stepping into the elevator Stiles notes firstly that there’s not a single button and panics for all of three seconds before his Tata just says ‘common floor’ which is apparently enough for the elevator since it just dings and starts moving up.

Well okay.

The common room turns out to be a huge, open concept floor.

There is the most beautiful kitchen Stiles has _ever_ seen that he’s going to make his bitch as soon as possible - yes Stiles is _so_ going to bake the fuck out of that kitchen. It’s all bright marble counter tops and double ovens and the fridge is _huge_ and yes Stiles is salivating a little. His Papa has to literally push him for him to step deeper into the room, chuckling along.

Further into the room, running along the same wall as the kitchen is a dining area. A _huge_ table sits with place settings already all set with soft looking chairs. It backs onto a wall of windows that’s opposite where they were let out, and the view is amazing. Stiles guess’ they're near the top, since the look _really_ high up. To the right of them is a pretty impressive collection of soft looking couches and huge arm chairs, all surrounding what looks to be a _great_ entertainment system. There’s a wall with a shelf of movies, books and board games that Stiles makes a note to look at later. The windows let in a crazy amount of natural light, even if it’s a little late and most of the light is artificial. The room is nice and large and feels airy, something Stiles could totally get down behind.

It’s also not empty.

When Stiles sees Steve Rogers his brain just … stops. This man is not only the coolest guy _ever,_ he’s also incredibly gorgeous and literally physically _perfect_ . Like, Stiles has never seen someone look more symmetrical before so _of fucking course_ the first thing he says is, “Your face is on my ass!”

He turns to the men behind him only to see that his Papa is trying desperately to suppress laughter. His sides are shaking and he’s covering his mouth with one hand. His Tata just has both hands over his face and his posture screams that he’s absolutely _done_ with everything right now. Stiles can’t really blame, his own face is heating up uncontrollably and he probably would’ve said something _worse_ until a voice interrupts him.

“Funny, his face is usually on _my_ ass. Got something to explain here Cap?” said a voice teasing. Stiles turns to face the speaker and _holy_ fuck.

It’s Tony Stark.

Tony Stark his literal _idol_ , the man Stiles wants to work for and he’s currently standing next to Captain America, pressing against his side and _holy fuck is Iron Man dating Captain America?_ Stiles honestly cannot even process anything that’s happening beyond that, but then Captain America has an arm around Iron Man’s shoulders and, _wow_. Or, Stiles thinks to himself, does Steve Rogers have an arm around Tony Stark’s shoulders? How does this name thing work?

Stiles is so out of it he is only vaguely aware of falling to his knees, his body saying a big _‘nope’_ and just giving up in this moment. Because this is too much for his brain to handle. His brain which has decided to just repeat _holy fuck Iron Man is dating Captain America_ over and over again, and Stiles thinks he might actually be saying it loud because Tony Stark is just laughing and Steve Rogers is wearing an adorably confused expression.

But then his Tata is pulling him back up, asking if he’s okay and shaking him just a little. He has to literally drag his eyes away from the two Avengers and instead focus on the man in front of him whose looking at him in great concern. Which, yeah, is understandable actually. He did just sort of _fall to the floor_. He tries to say something smart, something not embarrassing and instead squeals. It is no way manly or dignifying but he can’t even care because this the best.

“This is the best day of my life! All my dreams just came true, “Tato!” Stiles shouts in the man's face, grinning like mad and hopping in place, arms flailing out around him, “Papo! Papa do you _fucking see that_!” Stiles shouts again, pointing at the couple who are both just staring at him, Steve Rogers with the same concerned expression and Tony Stark with obvious amusement.

“Yes. I see them,” the man answers, looking confusedly between his son and his two teammates.

“No! _No!_ ” Stiles shouts, rushing forward to poke the taller man in the chest, face drawn up in the most serious expression he can muster when all his face wants to do is smile, “You don’t understand! _Iron Man is dating Captain America and all of my gay dreams have been answered!”_

“I don't know what to do with that sentence,” the man admits, chancing a glance over to the couple. Tony is just laughing now, and Steve is blushing.

“Ja pierdolę _[Holy fuck]_ ! Do you even know _how many_ Stony fics I’ve read!?”

“Stony?” Steve asks, and Stiles head snaps to the man.

“Oh uh, uhm. _Wow_ . Okay Stiles get your fucking act together you're a mature and responsible adult with an amazing IQ stop _freaking out_ !” Stiles scolds himself, eyes unfocusing as he mutters under his breath, only to snap back up and focus on the couple. Tony has Steve’s hand in his and the taller man is _blushing,_ “Okay. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark equals Stony. That's your ship name!”

“Ship name?” His Tata asks from behind him.

Stiles just nods, launching into his explanation, “Okay, so in the fandom universe, when there's two people or characters you want to be _together_ you ‘ship’ them. So like, there is an entire group of people who ship Captian America and Iron Man as a couple.”

“And what do people who, uh, ‘ship’ actually _do_?” Steve asks, glancing at his boyfriend who just shrugs.

“Well depends! There's fanart, fanfiction, some people make videos or make photo edits!” Stiles explains, cheeks flushed in excitement, “Here!” Stiles calls, shoving his phone into the faces of the two men. His background is a really cute Chibi drawing of the two that always makes him smile.

“So, people, what draw us?” Steve asks, brows furrowing a little.

“Yeah! And write stories and stuff.”

“And you are one of those who ship us?” Tony asks, amusement evident in his voice. He full out laughs when Stiles drops his head, cheeks flush as he bites his lip between his teen.

“Fandom is, well it's sort of an escape? A place I could go when everything sucked and it hurt,” Stiles explained, shuffling a little before stilling when his Papa hand settles on his back, “It’s a place where everything is happy and nothing hurts and I can just _forget_.”

“Well, seems I have some research to do,” Tony mutters, and Stiles watches as he absently places a kiss on Steve’s cheek before walking away, already on typing on what Stiles presumes to be his phone. And Stiles has to take a minute to let what just happened sink in. He just watched Tony Stark kiss Steve Rogers on the cheek. _Holy fucking fuck_.

“Well, it was a pretty cute drawing,” Steve says, giving Stiles a small smile which the boy gracefully returns.

“Well, I think that was more than enough excitement for one evening, don't you mój chłopcze?” His Tata says, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, giving the boy a gentle smile.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “Yeah.”

* * *

The next morning Stiles tries his best not to let himself feel embarrassed. He’s young, okay? He’s allowed to freak out when meeting two people he idolized. Sure, he hadn’t been a child for years but he was allowed to have his moments! And Stiles was pretty sure that meeting two of his heroes was a pretty good excuse. He was allowed to have a ‘moment’ as Stiles has taken to calling it in his head. It wasn’t that bad after all. Considering at one point he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. He didn’t!

Stiles tries to change his train of thought, instead glancing around his room. The Avengers Tower was all kinds of awesome, but this was cooler. Turns out he shares a floor with his Tatusiowie, a little appartment sort of place for them. When he had first walked in he had been a little blown away. It really hit him that he was going to be _living_ here. Here with two men who he loved dearly and hoped shared the same sentiment. When he first opened the door his breath caught. _Of course_ their floor would be just as beautiful as what he had already seen.

To his left was an incredibly modern kitchenette with sleek mahogany cupboards and marble counter tops. There was a sink, two elements on a stove top and a microwave oven. Past the kitchen was what looked to almost be an office area? There was a large wooden desk with a desktop setup, papers neatly piled. There was a second desk, this one a little smaller and covered in arrow heads that made Sites smile. It was obvious whose was whose. To his right the room opened up into a living space, a large ‘L’ shaped couch and a plush looking arm chair sat around a coffee table, all facing a wide TV.  He could see three doors along the back wall and that was it. The layout was quite similar to the common room, though smaller and more compact - much more like a _home_ , Stiles thought.

The room was all soft tones, warm and welcoming and looking so much like an actual _home_ that Stiles had to stop for a moment to let his mind catch up with everything. His Tata settled a hand on his back before explaining, “So, most meals are often ate as a team in the common room. That’s where you meet Steve and Tony. Most of us hang out on that floor in between missions.”

“That explains the lack of oven,” Stiles said, walking around the space.

“The first door is our bedroom,” His Papo takes over, pointing and everything, “The second is a washroom that connects to both rooms, and the last is your bedroom.”

Stiles had beamed at them, taking off excitedly towards his room only to stop at the door way. Even now, lying in the bed he was still a little blown away. The bed he was in was large, a queen at least with deep purple bedding and a soft grey comforter. It was placed against the far wall from the door, pushed against the back and right walls and had an end table beside it. Directly across from the best was a fairly large dresser, all sleek black wood like all the furniture. But the best part of the room? His desk.

It was long with a very comfortable looking chair that he already knew wheeled across the plush carpet in a way that made no sense. He had a dual monitor set-up that was absolutely gorgeous. All latest Stark tech that literally made Stiles’ mouth _water_ , him actually drooling at the Stark phone that was plugged in on his end table. His last laptop had been three years old and had been dropped so many times it barely worked at this point. It was tragic thing that was slow, but these? These were top of the line and every bit of nerd that Stiles was was _screaming_. He was slightly in awe, turning to marvel at the full bookshelf behind him then again to his desk. The first thing he had done was unpack his carryon bag, placing all of his magic books together on one of the shelves, skimming over titles. There were fictions, biographies, a book on Cell Theory (weird). He couldn’t get over it.

Over everything - and it was _his_. He knew he’d have to go shopping. He didn’t bring that many clothes, honestly mostly everything he owned were baggy jeans and graphic tees.

He was in love and also feeling incredibly overwhelmed, a feeling that didn’t go away even as he puttered into the main area. It was only five a.m, a result of him falling asleep closer to nine than ten the night before, exhausted by the unbelievable amounts of _emotion_ he had faced that day. So stiles went back to his room, pulling on his skinniest pair of jeans and his Hawkeye shirt (he wanted to look somewhat nice, okay?) and made his way to the elevator.

“Greetings Mr. Stilinski. Where may I take you this morning?” Stiles jumped high into the air when a computerized voice echoed in the elevator, nearly giving Stiles a heart attack. Stiles Spark had always rushed to the surface, stronger than he had felt it. He was guessing that about seven hours of sleep and four slices of pizza had been enough to fully rest him and restore his magic. He pulled it tight around him, still unsure of his safety.

“What?” The boy squeaked, looking around.

“Excuse my manners, Mr. Stilinski. Hello, I am JARVIS. I am the Towers resident AI,” the voice - Jarvis - said.

“Zajebiście! _[Fucking cool]_!” Stiles breathed out, smiling to himself. He let his magic relax and could see in the reflection of metal that his eyes were no longer glowing, “Uh, the common room, my good sir!”

“Very well, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Uh dude gross, _no_. Please call me Stiles.”

“Certainly Stiles,” Jarvis says, causing Stiles to beam at the ceiling.

“Dude you’re so awesome.”

“Thank you, dude,” Jarvis responds, causing Stiles to laugh as he exits the elevator, making his way into the _huge_ and ridiculous kitchen.

Stiles chats with Jarvis, asking about his programming as he gets the coffee going, smiling the whole time. Jarvis is a cool dude, and Stiles takes the time that his coffee is brewing to teach the AI slang, and how to use it appropriately. Stiles laughs with his whole body when the AI says, “FYI Stiles, Sir will be approaching the kitchen momentarily.” Stiles just thanks the robot, still laughing as he grins again at the ceiling a flash of pride in his chest, deciding that he is now friends with an AI and that it’s arguably the best thing to _ever_ happen to Stiles.

Stiles watches as Tony walks into the kitchen, dropping himself into a stool in a daze. Stiles refuses’ to think that his ruffled hair is adorable, and also refuses’ to make a fool of himself any longer. Stiles is smart, much smarter than anyone other than his Vice Principal has ever given him credit for. So he will not make a fool of himself! He can do this!

“I don’t like Stucky. Actually I _despise_ Stucky,” Tony mumbles. Stiles doesn’t answer at first, instead slides a cup of the fresh coffee he just made across the island, testing out his Spark a little and watching with fascination as the cup gently slides across the table. Tony looks up at him like he’s _god_ and Stiles blushes a little. Damn attractive super heroes, “Stucky has given me insecurities about my relationship that I never _had_ before.”

“Oh! Uh, wow, I’m sorry sir,” Stiles says on a breath, ducking his head.

“Tony,” the man slurs, taking a long pull of the coffee and humming softly, “It’s fine. I’ll just make Steve give me a few extra blowjobs.”

Stiles promptly chokes on his own cup of coffee, coughing loudly as his face goes _red_ with embarrassment and shame. He also giggles a little, because _what is his life_. Stiles calms himself down, taking another small sip to try and soothe his throat. He looks up at the man, who is now just watching Stiles. Stiles tries not to fidget and fills the silence with, “That should, uh help. I think. Yeah. Good plan.”

“Got any better ideas?” Tony asks, brow raised.

Stiles just scoffs, muttering a soft, _‘I could sure think of a few things.’_ before straightening up and asking, “Has he even given you any reason to doubt him before?”

“Well no,” Tony supplies, brow raising.

“Well than the way I see it, you really don’t need to worry. Don’t get me wrong, you should totally get more blowjobs if you want to - I imagine they're pretty fun,” Stiles says and _blushes_ , heat rising on his cheeks, “But, I don’t think you should use sex as a way to reassure yourself over the emotional aspects of your relationship.”

“And why not?”

“Well I mean. Okay, so, I clearly have _no experience_ at all. But, sex is not the same as intimacy, right? So arguably - and we both know this is true - you don't need to have a connection with someone to fuck them.” Stiles cringes a little at the crude phrasing, but Tony is watching him so he keeps going, “So, I just mean. Talk to him. Sex is a physical thing, and I’m sure that when there _is_ an emotional connect it _can_ have emotional connotations behind it. But at the base? Sex is about physical pleasure, right?

“Well yes,” the man says, nodding his head a little. Stiles finally sits, pulling a stool his way with his Spark and ignoring the tilt of the man's head.

“Just talk to him. Make him, like, hot chocolate or something, and cuddle him, and just talk about it.”

“What should I _say_ ?” Tony asks, and _no_ . No he is not going to admit he is not _actually_ asking a child with zero experience for relationship advice. It’s just, Tony has never really done relationships before. He was always a hit-it-it-quit-it kind of guy, and he is sort of ridiculously in love with Steve. Plus everything the boy is saying makes _sense_.

“Be honest? Tell him what’s bothering you, let him know how you’re feeling,” Stiles says , “Although, the only relationship I’ve ever been in is with my right hand, and once I cheated on him with my left, so.” He shrugs again, a grin taking over his face that becomes a full blown smile when what he says startles a laugh out of the genius.

“What’s your IQ?” Tony asks suddenly, his eyes snapping to Stiles.

“Uh high? Like around 150, I think,” Stiles answers with a little shrug. He’s proud of himself. He’s smart, he works at being smart. But he doesn’t want to seem cocky, because _that_ isn’t him.

“Damn kid,” Tony mutters, looking impressed and it causes to preen, if only a little. “And what’s with the …?” He makes a motion with his finger at the coffee mug and stool.

“Oh! I have magic. It’s, well _new_. Like, I’ve been aware of it for like, four days,” Tony just makes a humming noise, eyes a little far away. “Uhm Mr. Stark?” The boy asks, stealing his nerves.

“Call me Tony kid,”

“Right, uh Tony,” Stiles says, nervous all over again, “Could you help me decide what school to go to in the fall?”

“Why do you want my help?” The man tilts his head to the side, hair flopping with him at the ridiculous angle.

“Well I wanted to go to the best for my senior year, but I don’t what the best _is_ ,”

“Aren’t you, like fourteen?” Tony’s eyes go wide, posture straightening.

“I skipped a few grades?” Stiles says sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders a little.

“Well let me repeat myself, damn kid,” Tony says with a smile, and Stiles can see the hint of pride in the man's eyes and it makes him flush all over again. But then Tony frowns softly, taking a long look at Stiles before saying, “I’m taking you shopping. No friend of mine is going to be wearing _graphic tshirts_.”

Stiles just nods, already a little weary about what he got himself into. The look in Tony’s eyes is now slightly predatory and Stiles had _no_ idea what to do with it. So instead he just smiles, flashes his eyes gold and _laughs_ when the older man nearly falls back out of his chair. He realizes with a start as he’s laughing, Jarvis asking if _‘sir are you sure you’re already’_ and Tony glaring at him that he’s happy.

He decides right then that he really likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! so, its 1 a.m.... welp! i basically never sleep!
> 
> this chapter is one of my favorites! things are finally getting happier again and it makes my heart swell .. wait again?? this story has yet to be happy at all! whoops! with this chapter comes updated tags woo! relationships and characters get added :) this chapter was really fun for me to write, especially the part between stony and stiles!  
> alright, so when i first started writing this story it was originally a steve/stiles fic! butthen with everything that happened to stiles, i just didn't think he would fit as well with steve, so i paired stiles up with someone else and brought out my SECOND secret ship: stony. if you're wondering if this is going to be one of those everyone is gay fics, LOLL KINDA! i think there is so far only one hetreosexual pairing planned and five gay pairings.. welpers! 
> 
> but yes, this chapter! woo! happy!! stiles gets the hug he needs (symbolically, anyway). the next chapter is also a happy, feel good chapter with chapter six carving out my fuCKING HEART and then i plan on chapter seven being, like, the exACT opposite lol. i haven't written chapter seven yet, just planned it out lol  
> but who can guess what chapter six is... ???? it's pretty biGg so! who wants to guess who he meets next! the only hint im giving is think tony. that's it! 
> 
> let me know how you felt about this chapter! this story is my fav that i'm writing right now (i think?) but i am also loving my other three, plus a one shot i have in the works ;)  
> anyway enjoy and please comment, much love!!!
> 
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	5. You Bought Him Short Shorts?!

Stiles was standing at the stove flipping pancakes and humming along with the radio after his big talk with Tony. Turns out Jarvis has unlimited song access so Stiles is currently singing along with Cherry Wine because Hozier is  _ beautiful _ . He’s not even sure where the speakers are but the song pleasantly fills the kitchen. Tony is still at the island, tapping on a tablet and occasionally mumbling under his breath about whatever it is he’s working on. It’s nice, the companionship. Even though neither of them are doing anything together, just being in the room with someone is something Stiles has never really known. He’s never cooked with someone else  _ there _ before. His dad was rarely home and when he was it was strictly to sleep, so the quiet companionship isn’t something he’s ever known.

Stiles really likes it. 

His little pleasant slice of domesticity is completely _crushed_ when Steve walks in - he’s barefoot wearing pajama shorts with little shields on them and a baggy grey shirt and _holy fucking shit_ _Steve Rogers is wearing Captain America pajamas_ and it’s so _cute_. He quietly walks up behind Tony, sending Stiles a grin and wink while making a ‘shhh’ gesture. Stiles just nods, smiling back with a big smile as Steve wraps his arms around the other man, pressing a soft kiss to the top of the man's head.

“Why weren’t you in bed?” Steve asks, voice low and Stiles probably shouldn’t be listening but he hasn’t really  _ seen _ a couple be a couple since his mom died. Tony makes a high pitched squeak/squeal noise, falls off his chair and glares up at the super soldier. Carefully, Stiles takes the pancake he’s cooking off the stove and makes up two plates, sending them to the other side of the island with his magic. Steve stares with wide eyes as the plate of pancakes settle before him and Stiles grins.

But then.

But fucking then.

“Are you in love with Bucky and want to break up with me to date him!?” Tony literally  _ yells _ , waving his arms in a way that reminds Stiles much too like himself.

Steve just looks confused and slightly hurt, face drawn up as his shoulders slowly curl inwards. Stiles however, well. Stiles just places both hands on his hips and gathers up as much disappointment as he can before saying, “Tony. Do jasnej kurwy nędzy  _ [For fucks sakes] _ **.** No!”

The man in question turns to the boy, eyes meeting the floor and looking properly chastised. “Sorry Stiles.” 

“Matko Bosko _[Mother Christ]_. Good. Now, we decided we were going to _talk_ to Steve, which you did and I’m very proud of you for telling him your feelings.” The man just beams at that, and dear god this is already a mess, “But you shouldn't have just sprung all that on Steve.”

Tony apologizes again, turning back to Steve and offering him a small smile before saying, “So, turns out Fan Fiction is actually  _ evil _ .”

“Tony,” Steve says with a sigh, stepping closer to the man and bringing his arms around him, “I love  _ you _ .” 

Stiles turns away before they start to kiss, and Jarvis being the amazing bro he is just turns up his music so he doesn't hear anything. He does smile into the pancake mix though, a large beaming thing that hurts his cheeks a little but that Stiles never wants to let fall from his face. He’s really happy he was able to help Tony, and more than a little proud of himself. He keeps making pancakes, resuming in his singing, occasionally glancing back at the other two men in the room. They’re sitting at the table now, both eating but keep the stealing glances at each other and smiling and truthfully it’s a little gross, but they’re so in  _ love  _ and just oh my god.  

Stiles gets himself a plate not long after, sitting across from the couple as he eats. Soon after his Papa walks in and drops a kiss to Stiles’ head on the way to the coffee, making Stiles smile into his pancakes. He’s just not used to it. The affection, the familiarity that they already seem to have with each other. It’s weird, already feeling so close to his ojcowie, and even Tony, now. He tries not to think about it, really. Thinking about how  _ good _ it feels reminds him of how  _ bad _ it used to be, and he doesn’t want any negative emotions clouding his morning.

His Tata stumbles in only a few moments after Clint, zeroing in on Stiles immediately, eyes softening when the see then then flicking to Clint. Phil ruffles Stiles hair on the way past before going to Clint, stealing his coffee and giving him a soft smile. Stiles is almost overwhelmed by the two couples - by just how much  _ love _ is there and it makes something in him settle. 

“So magic?” Tony asks. Both his Tata and Papa have joined him around the the table and their sharing a plate of pancakes - another thing that is  _ too fucking cute _ .

“Yes?” Stiles answers, eyes flickering around the room. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes?” Stiles says, voice hiking up at the end again, “It’s really new, and I’m still not really sure all of what I can do.”

“Is it safe for you to be here?” Steve asks, voice gentle.

“What are you trying to say, Rogers?” Clint all but growls, staring hard the soldier.

“Clint, I’m just looking out for the team,” the taller man tries, placing both hands high in surrender.

“By suggesting my son is a safety risk!?”

“Papa,” Stiles says, voice quiet, internally crying a little at the way this man just casually called him his son, “It’s okay.”

“It most certainly is not!” 

“Yeah,” Stiles says, placing a hand on the man's forearm, “I’d honestly be a little worried if no one asked. I’m new. No one here other than you and Tata know me or have any knowledge of my life prior than meeting me for the first time. _Just_ for that he has a right to be worried, but now here I am with magical abilities that I can’t even tell you guys about because I _don’t_ _know_ about them.”

“He’s right, sweetheart,” Phil tries, flashing his son a grateful smile, “Listen to our boy.”

“Uh, okay. Steve come here,” Stiles instructed, standing and walking around the table. He was nervous about what he was about to do. He’d only ever let his ojcowie feel his magic before, and in all honesty he wasn’t really sure  _ how _ do it. 

He let his magic flare up, let the feeling of  _ warmth _ and comfort wash over him. He knew his eyes were gold now, glowing with his magic. He held out a hand, palm up and waited while Steve looked back to Tony and then Phil. Both men nodded at him, Tony going so far as to throw a thumbs up even though he himself had never felt the magic. Stiles let out a breath when Steve placed his hand in his own and let his magic expand. He opened it up, let it wash over Steve, let him _ feel _ it. The taller man was just staring down at Stiles, eyes wide in wonder and mouth dropped open. He wanted to prove that his magic wasn’t anything bad, show him how  _ light _ and  _ good _ it was.

Stiles face scrunched up, letting out a small whimper as he felt around. He could feel pain, an ache almost pounding within his body. It wasn’t anything strong, nothing  _ too _ bad but it was there. He knew it was Steve’s, pain that Steve felt on a regular basis for whatever reason. Stiles figured it must have had to do with how the serum affected his body. It didn’t matter, Stiles decided as he  _ pushed _ . He, well, tightened the hold he had on his Spark, letting his mind sharpen it as he pushed it at Steve,  _ in _ Steve. He felt for the pain, could feel it as a separate part of who Steve was, and did what felt natural. He pulled at it, pulled at the darkness that clouded the man's aura. He was sure in that moment it wasn’t just physical pain either, but Stiles wasn’t going to think about the fact that he was taking away some sort of emotional pain that the man was feeling as well. He could accept a lot about his magic but that’s just a little strange.

“What the hell?” The man said, sighing as his entire body sagged. Stiles pulled his Spark back with a smile, swaying on his feet before Steve shot out a hand to steady him.

“That’s my magic,” Stiles said as he rested against the counter, closing his eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over him, “Wow, I have  _ never _ done anything like that before.”

“What exactly did he do?” Tony asked, walking closer to Steve, head titled in question.

“Ever since the Super Solider experiment, I’ve been in pain. It’s mostly dull, and sometimes I don’t notice it, well I think he  _ took _ it?” 

“Yep, pretty much. Uh, I wypchnąłem _[pushed out]_ it?” Stiles said, sighing when Phil helped him back into the seat he had been at. The boy shot him a thankful smile before shoveling pancakes into his mouth, stealing Clint’s plate to eat those as well. Six pancakes later he finally looked up from his plate to see all four men watching him, “Okay _wow_ , that took a lot out of me.” 

“So you needed to eat my breakfast?” the archer squeaked, mouth dropping open in fake outrage.

Stiles just shrugged, “Magic takes something. In my case, it’s usually energy and the easiest way to replenish the energy using magic costs is eating or sleeping.”

Tony made a humming noise, already typing on his tablet again.

“Well, Stiles, thank you,” Steve said, flashing Stiels a bright smile.

“Ja pierdolę  _ [Holy fuck] _ ,” Stiles breathed out, turning to the man beside him and whispering, “Captain fucking America just  _ thanked _ me.”

“Kid, you  _ live _ with him now,” Clint pointed out, ruffling the boys hair.

Stiles? Well Stiles just sat back, leaning against the backrest of the bar stool he was sat on. Yeah, Stiles thought to himself, I  _ do _ live with him now.

“Holy fuck  _ [O kurwa] _ .”

* * *

Pepper Potts was as beautiful as she was terrifying. Within the first minute of her storming into the common room Stiles (and his magic) recognized her as a force of nature. She was anything but mundane and Stiles wouldn't be the least surprised if she were some sort of supernatural creature. The air bent around her as she walked and energy flowed from within in a bright show of lights in her aura. Maybe she didn't even  _ know _ , but she was something, that much there was no arguing with. She was simply  _ more _ . 

Stiles couldn't look away. 

When she turned a very critical eye on him he’s not ashamed to admit he squirmed and called up his Spark. He felt much more confident with it under his skin, humming through him, ready at his fingertips. It was a safety net that he was totally okay with having, especially after everything that had happened. Pepper’s glare reminded him a little too much of Peter Hale in the parking garage and it made him shiver in his seat and he  _ hated  _ it. So, instead of backing down he straightened up, held his chin forward and met her gaze head on.

“Oh I like this one,” she finally said, nodding in approval to Tony. 

And well, since Stiles is  _ Stiles _ , instead of the snarky comment he  _ meant _ to make he says, “I can’t decide if I’m bi or terrifying strawberry blonde’s are the exception to my gayness”

“You’re gay?” Clint asked.

“The problem is  _ I don’t know _ and you,” Stiles points at Pepper, “are not helping me figure it out!”

Pepper looked him up and down once he stood, feeling a little uncomfortable being the only one sitting down still, “You would make the perfect twink.”

Stiles just rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I’ve already been told,” Stiles said, furthering explaining at her raised brow, “I met a few drag queens at this gay club back home and they wouldn’t stop going on about my twink-y-ness”

“A gay club!” Phil all but yells, eyes wide as his arms shoot out.

“I was trying to save lives!” Stiles says back, raising his arms in a similar gesture.

“That doesn’t explain what you were doing in a club at  _ fourteen _ !” 

“To nie była moja wina  _ [It wasn’t my fault]! _ ”

“How is that not your fault?”

“Again, starałem się ratować życia i, tylko tak troszeczkę, mnie podrywano  _ [I was trying to save lives and I only got hit on a little] _ !” 

“You got  _ hit on _ !?” Oh, there was Clint joining the shouting.

“Tylko jeden taniec  _ [It was only one dance] _ !”

“You danced with someone?!”

“Ale tylko raz  _ [Only once though] _ !”

“Oh damn, you are total jailbait with that mouth,” Pepper says under her breath, “Okay! I’ll help you.”

“What!?” Stiles and Phil both say in unison, turning back to the lady.

“Me and Tony are going to take you shopping.”

Steve groans, Tony cheers and Stiles is absolutely terrified of at the twin looks Tony and Pepper are sporting.

Dear god.

* * *

Shopping with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts is exactly as terrifying as Stiles thought it would. If it’s also the coolest thing ever, well. Fifth Avenue is awe inspiring and Stiles finds he has to actually focus on not letting his mouth hang open. He is surrounded by beautiful stores and beautiful people and everyone looks rich and important. Not to mention the absurd  _ amount _ of people around him, frankly it’s a little overwhelming but Stiles  _ loves  _ it. He can’t really stop staring at  _ everything _ , because every building is so high and there’s so many cars. There is also a slew of homeless people and every time Stiles sees an animal he wants to cry and give them money. Neither Tony nor Pepper allow this.

Stiles decides that shopping in New York is amazing. 

By the time Stiles, Pepper and Tony spill back into the Avengers tower it’s been seven hours. Stiles hair is much shorter, but still fairly long on top, styled in a messy, lazy way that makes his cheekbones look higher. He is completely hairless after being waxed  _ everywhere _ and hasn’t felt this good about his body in months and he has on a pair of thick rimmed, black glasses that make his eyes look somehow bigger. They ate an incredibly delicious meal and an incredibly expensive restaurant and it was  _ so cool _ . Stiles is still a little dismayed on how many utensils were on his table. 

During their trip Tony somehow ended up carrying the bags but after hour two had called his driver Happy who was currently trailing behind them like he had for the last five hours, weighed down with the ridiculous amount of bags he was trying to carry. He looks ridiculous and Stiles spends the entire elevator wide up trying not to giggle.

Both his ojcowie and Steve are all sitting in the common room when they get there and his Papa smiles wide at Happy and that’s it, Stiles is curled over laughing and shaking and he really just can’t stop. Tony and Clint both join him, and Pepper smiles too, so he doesn’t really care that his eyes are watering.

“Very funny you guys,” the man mumbles, dropping  _ all _ the bags onto the floor with a huff of breath. Tony’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“Happy! Do you even know  _ how much money _ is in those bags!?” 

“No boss, I don’t”

“Uh, exactly how much?” Phil asks, looking almost nervously at the giant pile of retail, “‘Cause we’ll be sure to pay you back.”

“Nonsense!” Tony cries, “I have to make sure my Nephew is the hottest piece of twink ass out there!”

Stiles just blushes, grinning softly to himself at the word Nephew. The only Uncle he’s ever had was Phil, and in the last four years the man was much more of a dad. At least, in his mind and at how quickly both Phil and Clint had taken to being  _ called _ dad they clearly felt it to. At least, Stiles was  _ pretty _ sure. He had heard them talking last night before he finally drifted to sleep and  _ ‘adoption papers’ _ had definitely been said at one point.

Speaking of his ojcach they were both staring at Tony like they wanted to  _ kill _ him, and Stiles was pretty sure Phil just  _ might _ .

But then Steve, bless his heart asked, “Uh, what’s a twink?”

“Uh, it’s basically gay slang? In the queer community there’s like a bunch of different terms to ‘label’ people and their body types? So, me, I’m a twink. Uh, young looking, lean, generally little body hair. You would be a gym bunny, since you’re, uh well muscular.” Stiles shrugged, flushing bright red and not meeting anyones eyes, “there’s also Otters, Wolves, Bears, Cubs, an uh I can’t really think of any more?”

“Huh,” was all Steve said, nodding slowly to himself.

“How do you know so much about gay culture?” Pepper asked.

“Huh? Oh well research is kinda my _thing,_ so when I went through my sexuality crisis I did lots of research.” Stiles shrugged again, still feeling a little uncomfortable with the conversation. It wasn’t really one he wanted to be having. So he knew a lot about queer culture. Whatever.

“Well, can we see the stuff you got?” Clint asked, and Stiles was immensely grateful that the man had sensed how uncomfortable he may have been.

“Sure!” Stiles exclaimed jumping into the air in excitement. 

Ruffling through bags of  _ designer clothes _ was not something that he had ever imagined himself doing. In fact it was so out of the realm of everything he had ever considered possible that he wasn’t really fully believing it. Intellectually he knew everything was real - he had even counted his fingers just to make sure. However, it was hard to accept. He never had extra money. Even when he was young before his mom passed away they didn’t really have a whole lot. Sure, it’s not like he ever went  _ without _ , he never really  _ wanted _ anything. It just meant that some of his clothes were second hand and most of his toys were old and well used. It was fine though. A librarian and a deputy didn’t bring all that much money.

Stiles had never felt he was missing out. Even after his mom died and he had to somehow figure out how to support a grown man and preteen boy on a Sheriff’s paycheck, with about half going to booze. It was hard, and the last four years made him appreciate every spare bit of cash he had. It had taken him months of researching before he decided on a computer to buy with the money his Tata sent him, and the other years he had used the money to clothe himself. Even the  _ idea _ of spending the amount of money he just had … well it made Stiles uneasy.

He knew Tony Stark had more money than he probably knew what to do with, so Stiles tried not to feel  _ too _ bad. There was also the whole  _ ‘I was recently kidnapped, tortured and sexually asualted’  _ thing so Stiles figured he deserved some good. Being showered in fancy expensive clothes was  _ nice _ , his new phone was  _ nice _ , his  _ everything _ now was nice.

So Stiles did just as his Papa asked. He pulled out various pairs of skinny jeans, most dark washed or black, a few with rips in the knees, all  _ tight _ (apparently Stiles’ ass was nicer than he thought and needed to be shown off). After that were the shirts. He usually wore a large. He liked baggy clothing and liked hiding inside it, but apparently running with wolves had given him a fairly impressive amount of lean muscle. He really only had defined v-lines and a line running down the center of his stomach, no real abb definition yet but still. Now, he owned properly fitted t shirts that clung to the small size of his frame. 

The most exciting part of his purchases however were the cardigans. He got a large collection of oversized cardigans (you still need to look nice Stiles). Most of them were knit and soft and felt like clouds, though some were dressier. He had also been bought three suits, loafers, a variety of other shoes and even new underwear! As he showed off different articles of clothes he was sort of in heaven. It was nice, having so many around him that cared about him. His ojcowie were watching him in earnest, commenting on each piece (Phil had been outraged when Stiles pulled out a few pair of short shorts and a couple of mesh shirts which were  _ ‘for clubbing, duh’ _ as Tony had said). 

At one point, Stiles got a little choked up. He was just so grateful for everything and unbelievably happy and he wasn’t sure how to express that, other than wrapping Tony and Pepper in tight hugs. They seemed to get it, if the soft smile they shared was anything to go by.

It was a good feeling, something fluttering in his chest. When he had slipped and said Wujek _[Uncle]_ Tony wasn’t mad like he thought he’d be, in fact he _beamed_ at the boy, cuddling up to Steve’s side. Stiles was beyond happy. Happy that people _cared_ , that he was being looked after. It was such a foreign feeling.

He was really hoping he would get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and more! i think this may be one of my favorite chapters, actually. I enjoyed Stiles meeting even more of the Avengers, and him playing around with his magic. I'll be talking about it more and more later on, but a lot of it won't really progress until he meets a certain god! 
> 
> you may be wondering why i didn't upload last week.. and well! i don't have a good reason other than i was stretching myself too thin. Because of this I have decided to put two of my fics on hiatus. I will not be updating Gone and Past or I Built My Home Inside Of You in the foreseeable future! basically I was just overworking myself and was unable to properly focus on any of the fics I was writing. so as of this week, the only two fics that I will be regularly updating are these two! I am still writing more, don't worry!  
> I have two Steter fics on the go at the moment that I am super excited about, but an refraining from posting until I have finished writing them! 
> 
> chapter six is sad, i'll let you guys know that now LOL! i do hope this chapter was enjoyable for you, and I am sorry about not posting last week but hopefully things will be back to normal and i'll be updating weekly once again :) 
> 
> check me out on tumblr, if you want!  
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	6. Fuck You, Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end notes for warning

Erica _hurt_. Her body was covered in cuts and bruises and scars. She could still feel the three burns in her side where the electricity had been flowing into her body, the deep cuts of her wrists from where the wolves bane handcuffs had been holding them. Hell, she didn't even _know_ _how fucking long_ she had been tied up. Her side was bleeding from where Gerard had dragged a knife over her ribcage. She took uneven steps, a limp caused from her shattered knee cap. It wasn’t just that she had been hurt. She was used to pain, alright? Seizures were no walk in the fucking park, but this? She was a _werewolf_. She wasn’t supposed to be hurt anymore! The only reason she had even joined Derek and decided to take the bite was so she wouldn’t - couldn’t be hurt anymore.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to stop moving and let it out, her hurt and frustration and humiliation in the form of body wracking sobs. She felt like she had after her very first seizure. She was in the second grade and she was fucking terrified. She was weak and young and didn't understand what her body was doing and understood what the doctors were telling her even less. She took the bite so she would never feel like that again. Never feel helpless or broken or unwanted. Terrified by her own physicality. And now here she was, small and broken and scared all because of being a  _ werewolf _ . And how about that fucking irony? The thing she did to never feel small again made her feel smaller than she ever had before.

The electricity that had been flowing through her body for days had caused her healing to slow down to that of nearly human. She knew, of course, that this wasn’t really the case but the cuts in her side were still bleeding sluggishly even as she and Boyd leaned into each other. She could feel her internal organs repairing themselves, was sure most of her healing was being used to insure she didn’t die of some sort of horrible infection or blood loss. Hell, she shouldn’t even be able to  _ think _ after the amount of blood she’s lost. But her healing, as weak as it was, was still working double time to keep her alive. She limped along, a single minded determination she had never possessed before. She needed Derek. Needed her Alpha in a way didn’t know was possible. Every instinct was screaming at her to get to him, to let him take care of her. She also needed to make sure Stiles was okay.

Fuck, Stiles.

Once upon a time she had loved him, much in the same way he had loved Lydia Martin. Abstractly and from afar, though she experienced her emotions much quieter than he did. She knew it would never amount to anything, but she had hoped still. He was the boy who got panic attacks and she was the girl who got seizures and she  _ longed _ that one day he would look away from Lydia Martin long enough for him to notice her. She used to fantasize about it, the way it would happen, would spend hours thinking about what their relationship could be like. She should have known it would never happen, should never have given room for foolish thoughts to flourish with hope. He never had, not even when she became a werewolf and was able to flaunt her body, embrace her own sexaulity and in a way she had always wished to do. 

But now? Well now she had Boyd, first and foremost. What she had felt for Stiles had been a childish adoration from afar, whereas Boyd filled her heart and made her feel  _ good _ . He made her feel pretty, even if she was wearing sweats and no makeup or a corset and had her hair done perfectly. He liked her either way, and she would be forever grateful that he accepted both sides of her. Not to mention his stoic silence paired quite well with her own loud nature. He was the anchor of her storm and she loved him for it. Fuck, did she love him. He had stayed strong when she wanted to break, took the brunt of the beatings so that she didn’t have to. For five days they had been down there alone, the only company Gerard and Allison and the smell of their burning flesh and blood.

But then Stiles was thrown into the basement. 

Human fucking Stiles who for some reason wouldn’t leave them all alone. Some sort of deep rooted loyalty to Scott McCall that the other wolf in no way deserved. Stiles who had goaded the hunters every time they took a step towards Erica or Boyd, who took on more and more abuse so that neither of them had to, even though they were the wolves. They were stronger and healed faster than Stiles in all of his humanity did. It didn’t seem to matter to him, though. Not when Gerard was driving a knife into his thigh or slapping him across the face. Not when the man was pulling at his hair, zapping him with enough electricity to knock him out for moments at a time. He just kept going, kept talking and teasing and insulting. He made sure their attention was always on him and for the few blissful hours that Stiles was down there with them not once were Erica or Boyd touched. In fact they had both been able to get to some sleep, exhaustion pulling at their bodies. 

She didn’t wake until he started screaming. 

Stiles had not once screamed or called out for help during the entire time he had been down there. He teased and goaded and taunted but he never yelled. In fact, at one point he had gotten significantly quieter, almost as if goading Erica and Boyd into resting. So when Stiles screamed, a mangled horrible noise Erica had jolted awake only to roar in defiance. She couldn’t help but watch, couldn’t force herself to look away as the bastard of a man pushed his way into Stiles’ ass. The man was laughing, taunting Stiles as he fucked into him. There was no mercy to his movements, just long, hard punishing thrusts. Her advanced hearing let her hear the slap of skin to skin even over the screaming. At first, Stiles didn’t quite down, screamed over and over again. Nothing coherent, no real words just tortured yells that slowly ebbed off into a broken sobbing when he wore out his throat. Somehow that crying was worse. Gerard was easier to hear, the slurs and compliments he spit out in equal as if he couldn’t quite decide if he enjoyed what he was doing or not.

The smell of blood was so strong it nearly overpowered the smell of semen when the man finally finished. He pulled out as he spent and Erica had to squeeze her eyes shut as the man shot his release onto Stiles’ back, gloating about marking the boy so all the wolves would know what a little bitch he was. It made Erica feel sick and she could hear Boyd dry heaving beside her. And then he laughed. Gerard fucking Argent raped a boy and laughed. That’s when Erica started dry heaving herself.

And then, because apparently Stiles is  _ more _ , he began to glow. A soft, white light emitting from him. He smelled like cinnamon and ozone and the most refreshing scent either wolf had smelt in days. And then he was letting them out,  _ somehow _ untieing them without touching them. Erica wanted to make sure he was okay, fuck he just wanted to  _ hold him _ , hold him and never let him go again. But then there was a flash of the soft, white light and suddenly Erica and Boyd were outside, huddled together in an abandoned alley and they had no idea where they were or where Stiles was. Hell, the couldn't do much more than curl up together and hope their healing would start up soon. 

“Stop thinking about it.” Boyd muttered, the scratch of his voice drawing her back to the present. They were outside the depot now and Erica could hardly recall the walk, to caught up in the nightmare she had lived through. That night was half a week ago. After Stiles had been taken away they were kept for another two days. They had realized early on that they were only fed once a day and were able to track their stay through how many times they were fed. After Stiles let them out they began slowly making their way through town to the depot, eating from dumpsters when they stumbled upon them. Even now they were still weak, hardly even _ human _ with the amount of damage they had been dealt.

The barely made it down the stairs and into the depot without collapsing, both breathing deeply by the time they made it to the bottom. Their healing wasn’t actually  _ awful _ , Erica could feel internal wounds actively sewing themselves back together and knew that the only reason her body hadn’t started eating her own fat yet was because her healing was keeping the starvation at bay. Which was actually a fairly gross thought. Erica let out a string of curses when they made it to the bottom step, eyes clenched shut as she heavily breathed through her mouth trying to fight the dizziness.

When her mind cleared enough for her to open her eyes and breath in through her nose a growl ripped through her throat. It was like her wolf completely took over, the animal shoving her out of the driving seat and literally taking the wheel. She roared, eyes flashing yellow as she narrowed in on Allison. The huntress was standing beside Scott all but pressed into his side and at the scent of pure fear wafting off the girl Erica smirked, delighted in the response she was receiving. She cracked her neck, her fangs dropping at the same time her claws did. She crouched low, readying herself to pounce even as she distantly heard Derek calling her name. Her Alpha.  _ Alpha _ . 

The need to go to him was so strong, the pull greater up close. It was a real, tangible need now that they were in the same room, that she could really  _ smell _ him and sense him. But Allison was still there, her scent strong after the days she spent in the basement with them, watching as her grandfather and his men tortured them. Erica roared, the fragile hold on her wolf slipping further and she launched herself at the girl. Allison was a threat and she needed to be taken care of. She pounced, taking Allison down if only because of surprise. She could hear Boyd tackle Scott, hold the weaker wolf in place while he roared and growled at Erica to let go of his precious girlfriend. Erica just wrapped a hand around Allison’s throat, squeezing tight and letting her nails dig into the surface. Erica reveled in the scent of Allison’s blood - she wanted to drain the girl, pull out her heart and  _ crush it _ . 

But there were more important matters, so with the miniscule amount of self restraint she had left she loosened her grip enough to let the girl talk, “ _ Where is your grandfather, bitch? _ ”

“I don't- I don’t know!” Allison cried, clawing at Erica’s hands, her nail digging into the still tender flesh of her wrist in a desperate attempt to get loose.

“Tell me so I can rip his fucking heart out!” Erica roared in her face, spit flying around her fangs. 

But then there was a hand on the back of her neck, a steady anchoring force that was pulling her off, gently moving her away from Allison. A hand came around her waist when she began to kick, “Tell me! Tell me where he is!” 

“Erica!” Derek yelled, the Alpha command strong in his voice. It made her want to bare her throat, to kneel in submission but she held back. 

She roared at Isaac when he helped Allison up, Boyd still pining Scott to the ground, “Tell me you cunt! Tell me where he is!” 

Allison was crying by then, five lines of blood slowly trailing from her neck, but then Derek was in front of her, blocking her view with red eyes. He was growling low in his throat, a threat and a comfort all in one as he griped the back of her neck even tighter. Her knees went weak as her wolf finally let go and she fell into the older man, sobbing against his chest calling for Boyd. Soon enough there was the familiar scent and warmth that only Boyd’s could bring, burying his face into her hair as he held her and cried himself, Derek’s second hand moving to firmly grasp Boyd’s neck. 

Erica couldn’t process. She was lost in her grief, her hurt, her wolf pacing around with its tail stuck between its legs. Scared and dejected and hurt. She wanted to tear Gerard apart then finish the job with Allison. She  _ needed _ to, in a way, her wolf demanding revenge for the pain that was brought to her packmates. The blood loss wasn’t for her, and she could recognize that. It was something she  _ had _ to do, she had to kill Gerard and for some reason the thought of taking his life didn’t bother her in the slightest. The man was the most monstrous creature she had ever seen, and she was a damn werewolf who had only two weeks ago been trying to track down a fucking Kanima.

She pushed against Derek, wiggling her head free to glare at Allison again, “Tell me where he is, bitch. Maybe I won’t kill you once I’m done with him.”

“You wouldn’t!” Scott cried, moving to stand in front of Allison.

“Listen to my fucking heart beat! Once I kill grandpa Argent, I’m coming for you.” Erica maintained eye contact with Allison the whole time, growling out the words around her fangs and directing the last towards her specifically. She wanted to kill the girl  _ now _ , wanted to sink her claws and teeth into her flesh and  _ tear _ . The only thing keeping her from doing so was Boyd at her back, the solid weight of his chest brushing against the back of her head.

“Erica, what happened?” Derek said, no more Alpha in his voice even though his eyes were still red. His voice was strained as he took the two of them in, a little whine at the end at the obvious pain his beta’s were in. 

“This fucking bitch!” She yelled, stepping forward despite everything, “Tell me where he is!”

“I don’t know!” Allison finally answered, yelling the words herself.

“What the fuck do you fucking mean you don’t know!?” The she wolf's eyes narrowed at her prey, taking in as much as she could about the other girl. 

“Erica,” Derek said, stepping in front of the girl once more, “Who did this to you?”

“Granddaddy Rapist and Little Miss Psycho-Princess!” 

Derek sniffed the air, face paling at the accusation his beta was making, “Who?” Was the all the Alpha was able to spit out. If that man  _ violated _ his beta in such a way …

“Stiles,” Erica finally said, word short, clipped off.

“He would never!” Allison roared, moving into an offensive position as if readying to attack the wolf.

“The fuck he would! Why the hell do you think he didn’t scream until you left huh! He went through  _ hours _ of torture without screaming out one time!”

“No,” Allison took a step back, arm shooting out to grab hold of Scott even as her heartbeat skipped, “He wouldn’t.”

Erica growled again, pulling at the hold Boyd had on her arm. She reared her head back, letting her skull connect with Boyd’s noise, letting out a loud whine at injuring the man. She couldn’t stop, not when she threw herself at Allison again, swiping and clawing thoughtlessly at Scott when he jumped in front of her path. Erica growled, getting a good swipe at Scott’s arm and shoving him away, jumping forward again. She grabbed Allison by the arm, holding tight enough that she not only felt but also heard the bone break under her fingers. Erica smiled, revelling in the pain she was causing. She snarled, lips pulled back over fangs as she threw Allison, laughing when she hit the far wall and slunk down, her body lying still.

She wanted to sink her teeth into Allison’s skin, rip her apart and make her  _ bleed _ , coat the entire fucking  _ depot _ in it. Erica roared then, the noise letting off into a whine when Derek grabbed a fistful of her hair and clamped down on her throat with his teeth. Her body went limp at the Alpha’s touch, her wolf limping into submission, curling up tight and tucking its head in it’s paws. Erica let out another high whine as pain flooded her body. Since Erica had first smelt Allison, it was like her pain was put on the sideline, her wolf taking over so that she could protect herself from the threat. But now? Now that she had begun to calm in her Alpha’s presence it was all coming back. She staggered, letting a whine slip from her throat when her knees hit the floor. 

She dropped to her knees, only distantly aware at Derek snapping at Scott to take Allison away before she was once again being surrounded by familiar warmth. She curled up into Boyd’s heat, back to his chest as she softly bumped his chest with her head in apology. He just chuckled and wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her steady. Her mind was still too unclear, her wolf still pacing in agitation. She still wanted blood, her wolf  _ needed _ it and she whined again, not really understanding this need to  _ kill _ . But then there was a weight over her legs and she looked down to see Isaac laying over them, shoving his face into her stomach and curling his arms around both her and Boyd, a steady whine emitting from her throat. Then there was Derek, the scent of her Alpha and Pack almost overwhelming her. For the first time in more than a week her wolf fully subsided, releasing all control now that she was safe. 

When Derek threw his head back and howled - a sound filled with so much  _ hurt _ that it made Erica tear up - she joined him, letting out her own pain at the situation. Boyd and Isaac followed and together they howled at the moon, at the injustices committed by Hunters. Be it now or in the past, they howled for their losses, the hurt inflicted upon them and the ones they loved. But even as they slowed down, their vicious roars tapering off into soft cries, all Erica could think of was that she was safe. 

She was  _ safe _ . 

And fuck, she hoped Stiles was too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit description of rape. 
> 
> this is tHE CHAPTER! i have been so excited to most this chapter even since i wrote it, oh my gosh!  
> it's kinda crazy, i know! personally i hated writing it, because i love erica and she was hurting so much. on top of that i felt a little weird having no mention from stiles or the avengers here.. BUT i still enjoyed it! im thinking maybe in another couple of chapters we'll have another lil beacon hills chapter, though i am a little unsure. at least the pack now knows what happened. 
> 
> so allison, does she or does she not know. who knows!? i'm thinking that she did not know as it was happening, but at the same time stiles was crying and and begging, so really what the fuck did she think was happening?
> 
> so next weeks update is and is not happier? the beginning is sad but it DOES get better. we meet our third (out of four) avenger couple! can we guess who it is (hint it's literally the only straight couple this series is going to have lol whoops). somehow i ended up writing an 'everyone is gay' au and i don't even regret it, at all lol. 
> 
> anyhow, thanks for reading and i really hope that you liked the update!!!!  
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	7. He Still Has Two Bruised Ribs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you emily, for stepping in when my other beta could not be found! you are truly, truly a gem! to juliet, if you read this i hope you are well, and that all is good!  
> see end notes for warnings!

All Stiles wanted was a coffee. Okay, so he also wanted some fresh air and to see just a little bit more of New York, but that wasn’t the point. He’d been in the tower for a full two days, the only escape being the few hours of shopping. He mostly wanted coffee and while he could have made himself a cup in the tower, the tower didn’t have pumpkin spice lattes. They also didn’t have pumpkin scones and seeing as Stiles just finished his  _ third _ , well. 

He takes a small breath before walking out of the Starbucks, wrapping himself up in his over sized cardigan. His glasses are slipping off his nose - and despite not actually needing them to see, he does have to admit that he likes how they look. Which, if it wasn’t for Tony Stark assuring them that he  _ also _ wore fake glasses, then Stiles probably would have never even considered doing it.

It isn’t cold, but he still feels the need to cover up. New York is beyond overwhelming for him, coming from a town like Beacon Hills. It’s not necessarily  _ small _ , it has a decent enough population, but it  _ is _ small enough to not have its own University, instead just a community college. New York is the complete opposite of Beacon Hills. It’s filled with noise and people and movement and it’s all so much more apparent now that he’s walking along the sidewalk as opposed to driving in his Uncle’s car.

His glasses slip down his nose  _ again _ forcing him to push them up as he turns the corner, which is probably why he doesn’t see the hand reaching for him until it’s already curled harshly around his bicep and pulling him hard. He’s swung into a wall, his back hitting brick as it knocks the breath straight from his chest. He tries to breath in again, but there’s already someone holding his other arm, now both his limbs held tight. He’s not entirely sure what happens even as he doubles over, arms instinctively twitching to curl around his abdomen as pain flares through it. He tries to suck in another shaky breath only for pain to flair up against his right cheek. He goes to yell, to make some form of noise when suddenly his vision blacks out. He tries to blink his way back into the present but it’s already too late. 

_ He can feel the hand holding his thigh down, pushing his legs wider apart as he’s forced to expose himself. The grip is tight around his bare skin, fingernails digging into the fat of his upper thigh. He yanks sharply, causing Stiles to arch his back and press his face harder into the cold cement. The man has his other hand low on Stiles’ back, right above the swell of his ass and he laughs. The noise is dry, echos around the basement as Stiles screams again, begging for him to stop. It’s the first time he’s even considered muttering the word since he was first taken and he feels weak using it, even as the hand on his thigh slides higher and he can feel Gerard squeezing his ass.  _

_ The man thumbs over his hole, the feeling making him want to empty his stomach. Vile has long since risen in his throat and made itself a home there, though he knows he can’t throw up. His face is shoved into the hard cement floor and he refuses to risk dying by choking on his own vomit. Not now, not after all the man has already done to him. Gerard laughs again as he slips a finger in, something - his blood, probably his fucking blood - slicking the way and easing at least  _ some _ of the pain. It still burns, blood doesn’t make a nice lubricant and the man doesn’t hold back, shoves his entire finger inside of Stiles’ ass. _

_It really doesn’t help that he’s fourteen and has only ever done this to_ himself _once before. He’s now wishing that he_ had _done it more, that he hadn’t been as scared as he had been to explore his own body before someone took that choice from him. He bites down on his lip so hard that his mouth is again flooded with his own blood, copper overwhelming his senses not for the first time. Gerard shoves two more fingers in and it_ hurts _, it hurts but it doesn’t hurt as_ _much as the knife did when it was in his thigh or his broken ribs._

_ And that’s the best fucking part, Stiles thinks. This hurts less than any of the torture he has since endured and yet he can’t stop calling for help. He’s sure that Allison is upstairs, that she’s able to hear him as he begs her Grandfather to  _ get off of him _. She doesn't do anything, much like how she watched him be tortured without so much as a frown. Stiles now recognizes her for the monster that she is, the beast that has been formed by loss.  _

_ It’s as Gerard fucks into him - the head of his cock getting caught at his rim only to be shoved in anyway - that he thinks about how differently people are shaped by loss. He’s still screaming, his ass still clenching painfully around the dick inside him still aware of the way Gerard’s fingers are digging into the little fat on his hips, nails cutting into the skin. He is however, thankfully detached from the situation. Instead he wonders how his own mother dying thrust him into adulthood, gave him a certain amount of strength he needed to get over the fact that his father decided that loving his son was too much without his wife. The strength to pull himself out of bed without either parent and make himself breakfast for the first time in his life. That losing her was the only thing that really kept him alive.  _

_ But with Allison, losing her mother turned her into a monster. Twisted something inside of her soul that left it dark and ugly. Let her kidnap and torture her peers, watch as her grandfather tied up and beat her friend. It let her become a monster and gave her the excuse she needed to clear her conscious. Loss is a tricky thing, Stiles tells himself to distract from the feeling of cum flooding his asshole. _

When Stiles opens his eyes, this time he’s sitting on the floor of an alley, the smell of rotten food and piss flooding his senses. He hurts, sure, but not enough for anything to be broken. He takes a moment to shake off the flash back, inhales a far too shaky breath and tries to push himself onto his feet, almost crying out at the sharp pain in his left rib. It’s probably bruised, Stiles realizes even as he reaches for his phone. Which, isn’t there, and neither is his wallet. Stiles laughs, the sound broken and wet as he spits out a mouthful of blood he didn’t realize he was holding. 

Stiles Stilinski was just jumped for his fucking wallet. It’s so  _ mundane _ that Stiles laughs again, even as a fresh set of tears roll down his face, even as he tries to shove back his memories. They’re still too fresh, the vivid recounting still too hot in his mind for Stiles to be okay with it. He tries to pull himself together, can hear the hustle of New York loud in his ears. He knows that he must look a mess, can feel the blood drying on his cheek right now. He does pull himself up though, if only because he can feel his spark burning low in the middle of his chest. He has no idea why it didn’t do anything, why his magic shut down. 

He takes a minute to feel for it, to try and reach to it, but it shies away from his touch, slinks down and low into his chest. He can reach it, sure, could pull it up and use it. But it doesn't feel right, at least not now. Stiles wants to scream in frustration at his own self - at his own inability. Sure, it’s only been a week since he found out about his spark and sure, it makes sense that Stiles still has no proper control over it, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting. He needed his magic, needed to be able to protect himself and it wasn’t  _ there _ . What is he if he doesn’t even have his spark? 

He doesn’t understand why it just left him in the way it did, left him  _ there _ . And maybe it’s being affected by the flash back, the trauma that helped ignite his spark somehow scaring it into submission. He knows that he needs to read more. He’s read one journal so far, and he’s sure that there may be some explanation in one of his books if he were to look for it. 

It doesn’t matter, is what he decides, as he pushes himself off the alley wall that he’d been leaning on. 

* * *

Most of the walk back is a blur, but what does stick out is that no one stopped Stiles. No one even looked at him funny, despite the forming bruises on his jaw or the split lip or the blood staining his teeth. Apparently, walking down the streets of New York like this wasn’t cause for alarm, since Stiles makes it back to the Avengers Tower without fault. He knows what would happen back in Beacon Hills, that he would stopped, that by the time he reached home the entire town would know. It may not be all that small but boy did it gossip like it was.

He’s grateful that Tony had showed him the more private entrance after their shopping trip, so instead of walking through the front lobby of a place of work, he’s able to walk around the corner and let himself into a little known second doorway. In order to get in he has to announce himself to Jarvis and even though it felt weird to be talking to a wall he did so without hesitation. The door slid open in front of him, a puff of breath escaping his lips as he slumped against the wall of the elevator. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down enough to speak, to tell Jarvis to take him to his floor when the elevator started moving. Stiles let out a little surprised yelp, clutching at his chest as his heartbeat began to rise. 

“Good afternoon, dude.” Jarvis’ voice sounds out in the elevator and Stiles’ heartbeat calms even as a laugh is pulled from his throat, “I have sent word to Dr. Banner. He is preparing a lab for you.”

“No! No, I-I’m fine.” Stiles said, slumping against the wall again even as the pain returned. He’d been trying to reach out for his spark nearly the entire walk home but - nothing. He was getting increasingly concerned that something may have happened and all he wants to do is go and  _ read _ , to try and figure this damn thing out so he can stop feeling so utterly useless. 

“I am sorry to inform you, bro, but you are ‘totally’ not fine.” Yes, Stiles heard the damn quotations around the word. How anything, let alone a pre programmed AI could be so damn sarcastic without any change in tone was beyond Stiles.

“I don't think Tony programmed you to be this damn sarcastic, J.”

“I regret to say, but yes, Sir  _ did _ program me to be sarcastic.” The AI admitted, and Stiles just sighed in defeat, doors opening in front of him.

He took a step into the room, already feeling nervous about meeting Bruce Banner. Because Jesus, that was  _ not _ something he wanted to do after being beat up. He was also feeling a little lost. He had only seen this part of the tower quickly, Tony not paying much mind to it during their tour. It was understandable, Stiles guessed, as the likelihood of him using the medical bay hadn’t been very high. But well, if Stiles knew anything it was that somehow pain always found him - despite how much he wished otherwise. It wasn’t as though  _ he _ went looking to be mugged, or to be attacked by a feral Alpha or hunters or a fucking lizard beast. These things just  _ found him _ !

The area he stepped into was a large, open room with a few hospital beds scattered across the floor. Stiles could see curtains hanging off of pulley tracks surrounding each bed, most likely so it's occupants could have some form of privacy. Off to the side were a few different seating options, almost like a wait room. The room was over all sterile looking - all whites and the smell of antiseptic was strong. Stiles only noticed the closed off rooms off the the right side when someone cleared their throat, pulling Stiles’ attention in that direction. 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” The man mumbled, and Stiles’ head whipped up only for his jaw to drop as he came face to face with  _ Bruce fucking Banner _ . 

“Y-You’re B -  _ oh my god _ !” Stiles stuttered out, the end of his sentence barely anything more than an exhale of breath. Stiles had always been interested in the S.T.E.M fields, chemistry specifically (after the whole molotov cocktail thing, he really began looking into it) - though he wasn't too shabby when it came to modern technology - and Bruce Banner had been one of his idols. Despite not seriously considering a career in that path, always reverting to law enforcement, he couldn't just not think the man was a genius.

“Yes, I am the Hulk-”

“Oh my god! Dr. Bruce Banner!” Stiles gasped, flushing despite the pain in his body, “Your work in anti-electron collisions was amazing to read!”

Bruce blinked at that, almost taken aback by the boy in front of him. He had known that Agent Coulson and Clint had brought home a … son? He wasn't entirely sure what the boy was to them, knowing him to be Coulson’s nephew, but hearing them both refer to him as ‘our boy’ was making him wonder. Still, he obviously needed medical help. Bruce wasn't surprised that Jarvis had called him, not after seeing the boy. 

“I - well thank you, uh Stiles,” Bruce said, beckoning the boy over, “Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Al-alright!” Stiles said, mentally berating himself for the stutter. Jesus, how many Avengers was he going to meet! “So do you normally act as, I don’t know, Doctor on standby?”

“For the Avengers, yes.” Bruce said, readying a side table with gauze and different types of, well medical supplies. Stiles hopped up onto the examination table, humming in acknowledgement.

“That’s cool.” Stiles said, trying to find something else to say or at least keep the conversation going. He didn't like silences, never had and with his spark so far from his reach he felt the need to fidget, to  _ move _ in a way he thought was done with. 

“It is.”

“Really dude, I think you’re  _ overreacting _ .” Stiles said, lightly wincing as the man dabbed at his cut cheek.

“Did you just?”

“Yeah, you really just need to stay  _ positive _ .” 

“You -” Bruce began, breaking himself off with a snort. His eyes widen in shock, almost surprised he laughed. 

“I’m glad you thought that was funny. Most of the good chemistry jokes  _ Argon _ .” Stiles said, watching with wide eyes as the man let out a laugh, eye crinkling in the corner. Stiles joined him with a giggle, not even caring when the movement jostled his sore ribs.

* * *

“Alright,” Bruce began, finishing up his inspection of the boy, “Nothing is broken, although I’m sure you have at least two bruised ribs. You don’t seem to have a concussion, which is a good sign with the way that bruise is forming.” Stiles nodded. He knew what a broken rib felt like, after all, and this was nothing in comparison. “Would you like some ice cream?”

“I - what? Ice Cream?” Stiles asked, blinking owlishly at the man in front of him. 

“You look like you could use some ice cream and Nat always makes sure to keep our freezer stocked. If you want, that is?” 

And fuck yes, it wasn’t like Stiles was going to turn down _ Bruce Banner _ . So he agreed, of course, with a dumb nod of his head and a little hum because he was not trusting himself enough to talk. He’d barely lived through meeting Steve, Tony or Pepper, with how embarrassing it had been each time. He was determined not to say anything stupid as they walked towards the elevators, medical supplies already cleaned and thrown away. He took another deep breath, readying himself for the inevitable awkwardness he was bound to cause.

“I am glad you are better, dude.” Jarvis said once they’d gotten into the elevator, voice holding significantly less sarcasm than the last time they’d talked. 

“Thanks J,” Stiles called out, a light blush covering his cheeks. He wasn’t used to someone caring about his well being like that, not used to having someone watch out for him or be worried about him. And sure, it was an AI and it was  _ programmed _ to do so, but it still felt  _ nice _ . It was comforting, knowing that there would be someone to make sure that he was okay and get help for him if he wasn’t. 

“Alright, so Nat should be here som-” Bruce began as they stepped out of the elevator, cutting himself off when Natasha walked into a room in nothing but a towel. Her hair was up in a loose bun and she was currently stretching her arms behind her back, arching her spine and popping out her chest. 

Stiles looked over at Bruce, amusement curling inside him. The man’s eyes were blown wide and even though Stiles was pretty sure the two were together (since he had referred to it as  _ their _ floor) he still looked like he his brain was exploding. Stiles did actually snort when Bruce’s mouth dropped open, the man's glasses sliding down his nose as he stuttered trying to find something to say. It was adorable really, especially as the man's cheeks heated up when Natasha turned her gaze to him, sending him a wink and a smirk before turning back to Stiles. 

“I was promised ice cream?” Stiles said as he looked around the apartment, happily noting that it was of the same layout he shared with Phil and Clint.

“Of course, right this way.” Natasha Romanov said,  _ Natasha Romanov _ , as she turned her back and led Stiles into her kitchen - and holy fuck  _ what was Stiles’ life _ . “What happened to you, kotenok  _ [small cat] _ ?”

“Oh, uh, I was jumped?” Stiles said lamely, Natasha’s harsh glare not being softened  _ at all  _ by the fact that she was in nothing but a towel.

“And you did not defend yourself?”

“I tried, but my mag-”

“Nat, sweetheart,” Bruce said, cutting Stiles off, “Could you get dressed?”

“Stiles doesn’t mind,” She said, waving a hand in the air while grabbing a carton of ice cream from the fridge, “Don’t worry Bruce, he’s not looking at me like that.” 

Bruce looked over to Stiles who just shrugged, gratefully accepting a bowl of ice cream from the spy, “I mean, if it was  _ you _ , it may be a bit, uh, harder to look away,” 

“That was a terrible line!” Natasha said but she snickered anyway, sending a wink to Stiles who smiled back, “But yes Bruce, if you insist, I  _ will _ get dressed.” Natasha said, slipping out of the room. 

“I didn't know you two were together?” Stiles asked, all but moaning around his ice cream. He grabbed the cartoon and gently held it against the side of his face, nearly crying at the relief. 

“Here we have ice packs,” Bruce said, moving into the kitchen, “And yes, we are.”

“Are all the avengers dating secretly dating each other?” Stiles asked, taking another big bite of the ice cream.

“Pretty much?” Natasha added as she walked back into the room. Stiles was a little jealous of how good she looked in simple jeans and a t shirt, since his body never looked that good in  _ anything _ , “I know Bucky is single, Sam isn't dating anyone and I think Thor broke up with Jane?”

“Huh..” Stiles said, putting his bowl in the sink, “Okay then.”

“So, about your?” Natasha started, motioning to Stiles’ face.

“Oh! I was mugged.” Stiles admitted, casting his eyes down. It was  _ embarrassing _ , with all he’d been through with the supernatural. 

“And again, why didn’t you fight back?” It wasn’t as cold this time, but her eyes were still hard as she stared Stiles down. Stiles was hardly phased, instead sat up a little straighter and stared back. It had worked on supernatural creatures and Pepper, so maybe it would work on the Black Widow as well. 

“I was going to, but it triggered a pretty bad memory. I don’t really remember much of what happened, really.” Stiles admitted, still not breaking her gaze. Being affected by what happened wasn’t anything to be ashamed about, he told himself again. Sure, it was hard to accept, that he could still be letting Gerard win but it had been recent, less than a week since  _ it _ happened. He was allowed to still be affected, right? 

“Oh kotenok.” Natasha said gently, her face softening, “Alright, do you know  _ how _ to fight back?”

“Uh, not really?” Stiles shrugged. 

“I will teach you then,” She decided, looking over to a wide eyed Bruce with a smile, “I’ve never had the opportunity to teach anyone before! Are you flexible?”

“Uh, maybe?” Stiles said, voice going high at the end as he stared between the two. 

“Good enough! We will start your training tomorrow at six a.m, so don’t be late!”

Stiles just nodded, letting her lead him out of the apartment. Right before the elevator door closed he was able to get out a strangled, “Training?” just as he heard Bruce shouted after her, “He still has two bruised ribs!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: explicit description of rape
> 
> i have so so much to say about this chapter! firstly, AH. i hated writing Stiles' flashback. after last weeks chapter i just wanted this whole thing to be happy fluff and it just .. wasn't! also, writing both Bruce and Natasha was hard! i don't read a lot of fic with either of them in it, and if they are they are generally side characters (as they will be in this fic) so i had a hard time. i did enjoy looking up chemistry puns even if i did not understand them, and they are only there because of my lovely friend madhatter (i'm sorry they are not medical jokes but i couldn't find any good ones!!). so it was weird writing them. this whole fic is weird. i am not a huge comic fan, am not even that involved with mcu in general, so a lot of this is foreign to me!  
> aside from reading a shit ton of spideypool fic, i don't know much about superheros. Sure, I watch the movies but that's about it, lol  
> alright as for this chapter! these are the last two avengers we are going to meet for a couple of chapters. i want to focus on a bit of bonding between the team as they are, and a little more on stiles' recovery. he went through some fucked up shit and it hasn't been discussed yet, and despite his flashback (or maybe because of it) in this chapter, i think it is time to really talk about what he's going through!  
> i am definitely excited for some of the bigger things i have planned for this story. as it is now, i have no ending YET in sight, and may turn this into a series? for those of you who want to know who pairing this fic will be, that probably won't be happening for a WHILE, and whomever it turns out to be will probably not be introduced for some time!!  
> asides from that i have so much going on in life lol! just so many things i am trying to write and this story is not my top one. i love it, obviously, but i keep finding myself drawn to my other multichapter fic, and just am so excited about it. that doesn't mean that i am stopping this story, though, so please do not fear, LOL!  
> also, i am slowly trying to lengthen these chapters. with each one stopping right around 3k, i've wanted to make a few longer. this one is getting closer to 4, which i am very happy about and hopefully the other one will actually break that!
> 
> i think that is all. if you guys have anything you want to see in this story PLEASE comment or message me on tumblr. i love it when you guys do!  
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


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